Seasons of Change
by mutantlexi
Summary: Sometimes, you find the one. Sometimes she finds you, but the path to happiness is never easy.
1. Death is a Lonely Place

Title: Seasons of Change  
Author: Lexi Kimble  
Rating: R/FR18/M  
Disclaimer: Marvel Entertainment LLC owns all of the intellectual property printed in their comics, along with the television and movie adaptations of said same property. Not mine, don't sue, and so forth and so on.  
Dedications & Thanks: Thanks to Joe for being a support and a pretty awesome editor.  
Summary: Love is love, but there's always obstacles that stand in the way of happily ever after.  
Lexi's Note: I'm an unabashed Jean/Emma shipper. This is my first real attempt at prose in a LONG time.

* * *

_May 7, 2009  
The Xavier School for the Gifted_

* * *

Singing along softly with one of her favorite songs as it poured from her white earbuds, Emma Frost makes her way across the courtyard. Thanks to her powers, avoiding the other students milling between classes is child's play during her leisurely walk to the main building for her Advanced Applied Psionics class. Raising one hand, she brushes the blond flyaway strand as it sweeps against her nose, her soft alto making out the words to the music playing on her iPod.

_"You've applied the pressure,_  
_To have me crystalized,_  
_And you've got the faith,_  
_That I could bring paradise._

_I'll forgive and forget,_  
_Before I'm paralyzed._  
_Do I have to keep up the pace,_  
_To keep you satisfied?"_

Her singing is interrupted as the wind catches another lock of her platinum hair, this time blocking her vision as it splays over her glasses. Stopping in her tracks with a huff, she pulls the wild hair away and tucks it behind her ear as she stretches her consciousness outward… there! Without a note of amusement in her mind's voice, she reaches out to the source of her vexation. _'Very cute, Oiseau. You could have said something if you wanted my attention, instead of blinding me with my own hair.'_

_'Awww… you're no fun, Emma.'_ The teasing retort is followed by a giggle that rolls through Emma's mind, and then the redhead bounces into view from behind Emma. As always, a wide smile graces her freckled face, her large green eyes sparkling in the late morning sun. Another constant is the way her long, wild, orangish-red hair tumbles over her shoulders, cascading to the middle of her back. Reaching out with her powers, Jean's eyes shift from their normal verdant color to a smoldering gold. Matching golden auras flare to life around both her head and Emma's earbuds as the ginger gently tugs them free with her mind, laying them atop the books in Emma's arms. As the glow fades, Jean's smile grows - if possible - even larger. "Hi!"

"Hello to you too, dear. I see you're progressing well with fine control." A small smile forms on the prim adolescent's face, her sapphire eyes looking proudly at her friend. Without warning, she pushes her small pile of books at Jean, not waiting to see if she will… "Hold."

With a squeak, the golden aura sparks back to life around Jean's head, and another around the books as she catches them before they topple to the ground. Stepping inside the telekine's personal space, Emma's hand caresses Jean's now-blushing face before dropping to the undone top button of her white blouse. Eyes widening, Jean starts to fidget, knowing the towheaded girl's propensity for public displays of affection. This time, though, Emma's thin fingers merely work the button closed before sliding down to the redhead's tie. With a slight wiggle and push, she nudges Jean's blue tie back into perfect alignment.

Letting out a sigh of relief as she realizes Emma's only intent was to fix her tie, Jean closes her eyes and tries to slow her rapidly beating heart. A familiar fragrance again sets off the butterflies in Jean's stomach, her eyes popping open to find Emma's familiar face mere inches from her own. Her concentration falters, the books in her telekinetic grasp almost falling to the ground before she remembers them and reinforces her mental grasp. Tugging two green hair ties from her purse, the blonde works Jean's fiery mane into two low pigtails with practiced ease. "Jean, dear, you need to keep yourself tidy. We are the pride of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, are we not? Also, Father and Christian are taking us to lunch."

Giggling nervously, Jean allows herself a mental sigh of relief but before she can respond, the platinum-haired girl gently brushes her lips against the redhead's. Eyes widening as she flushes brightly, Jean's telekinetic grip on Emma's books fails. Fortunately, their owner has already secured them before they could fall to the ground. "Emma! People!" Winking at her girlfriend, Emma chuckles lowly at that and takes Jean's hand in hers, leading her slowly towards their next class. As they weave through their fellow students, Jean's attention is caught by a young, violet-haired girl in a school jumper that matches hers, and she greets her with a wave. "Hi, Betsy!"

"Ahoy, Jeannie. Ello, Emma." Betsy Braddock calls back in the unmistakeable tones of Received Pronunciation as she makes her way over to her two friends. Throwing herself forward, she wraps her arms around both girls and gives them a squeeze. As the group hug breaks up, a wicked grin flashes across Betsy's face. "So, you got your little Birdie to kiss you. In broad daylight, even. Brava, Emma."

"Or something."

The blonde responds with a grin of her own and Jean's face, which has just cleared, flares bright red again as she slugs Betsy on the arm. Trying desperately to take the attention off of herself, Jean tries to push the conversation back onto her British friend. "So, you have American History now, right? I heard you guys are getting a guest lecture by Captain America!"

"Oi, yeah, but I doubt even he can make history less dull." Betsy pouts, wilting at the idea of having to go sit through yet another lecture on times long past. "Oh well. We need it to get into university, right?"

"Yup!" Jean replies with her typical, infectious smile. "Though we should get to class or we'll get in trouble again."

Smirking, Betsy draws Emma's attention by way of an elbow to the ribs. "Speaking of class… I bet you'll be paying plenty of attention in World History tomorrow, Emma." The blonde raises an eyebrow at that, and Betsy's grin widens. "Black Widow is here all week. 'The Cold War: A Russian Perspective'. Any of this ringing a bell? I'm surprised you of all people would forget."

"Now why would I care if…" Emma trails off as Betsy mouths the words 'ginger fetish' at her. "Ah. I see. Just out of curiosity, you do remember that I can make you think you're Paris Hilton's British cousin, right?" Still grinning, Betsy raises her hands in surrender, making the blonde scowl.

Turning to continue towards the main building, Emma abruptly freezes in place. Betsy and the other telepaths in the crowd of students quickly follow suit, all of them craning their necks to look in the same direction. Their eyes are searching for something on the horizon they can sense but not yet see when, with a loud screech of tires, three large vans slam into the gates of the school, knocking them to the ground. There is a moment of silence quickly broken by screams and Emma can feel the life of a young boy snuff out, his body pinned under the wheels of one of the vans.

"Everyone get to the school!" The shout comes from one of the other students, Emma isn't sure which, but everyone is still in a state of shock as men in black body armor pour from the vans. The shockingly loud crack of assault rifle fire finally brings home what's happening and hysteria sets in, the students stampeding as they try to flee to safety.

Buffeted by her peers, Emma quickly finds herself separated from Jean and Betsy. _'Jean! Betsy!'_ Calling out frantically with her mind, the blonde keeps one eye on the invaders, watching in horror as two more students fall, her powers making it impossible to miss the exact moment when their lives are cut short. Reaching out with her mind, Emma tries to force her will upon the attackers but finds herself encountering a curious emptiness. Rather than waste time pondering that, though, she pivots and connects her mind to as many as she can, serving as a mental switchboard between the panicking crowd and the adults in the school. She can feel the teachers and others coming, using her information to coordinate their response, but how long would they take? _'Please, Oiseau… answer me!'_

_'Emma?'_ Jean's worried voice breaks through the din of panic, like a laser into Emma's mind. Emma can feel the panic resonating through their bond, yet the telekine's thoughts are more of sadness and concern. _'Betsy's with me. She's created a shield, you should be able to see her. Oh god, Emma. Sam… Sam's dead.'_

Glancing to her right, Emma can see clusters of smaller kids huddled behind a glowing violet barrier, Betsy's characteristic butterfly shaped violet aura blazing around her head. As the blonde watches, several other shields spring up as the other telekines follow Betsy's lead, quickly creating a Venn diagram-esque rainbow of safety. Quickly borrowing Jean's eyes, Emma glances at her violet-haired friend, taking in the blood that soaks the right shoulder of her white blouse, hoping that it was the blood of another. Turning to scan the group through Jean's eyes, she sees several other wounded… and then Sam Guthrie's blank stare. A bullet has torn through his head, just above his eyebrow, ending his short life.

Pulling herself free of Jean's mind, Emma watches as the adults begin to stream out of the school. She turns her attention back to the massacre, seeing the way her fellow students are using their powers to help each other… and knowing she can help. Breaking into a run, she reaches out to her girlfriend again with her mind. _'Jean… Oiseau, I need you to help Betsy and the others to make a shield.'_

Tentatively, Jean closes the young blond boy's eyes, standing up and moving over to her friend's side. Emma can feel the redhead's power stir as she reaches into herself, pushing forth a wall of psionic energy as she creates a flaming shield easily twice as large as any other, flinching as each bullet strikes her barricade. _'I'm doing it Emma… please hurry…'_

_'I'm on my way, love. I'm going to shift now… I'll help to stop them.'_ Her psychic link fades as her flesh gave way to organic diamond. As she moves towards the front of the crowd, Emma does her best to herd the panicked students back behind her, towards the students projecting shields. A sharp tap against her chest makes her grunt, a round ripping through her shirt and slamming into her chest as her diamond skin stops it.

Reaching the front line, Emma allows herself a small sigh of relief. While there are a number of wounded students lying outside of the protection afford by the shields created by Jean, Betsy, and the others, their number is fewer than she'd feared. Thundering footsteps to her left herald the arrival of the large Russian boy from her art class, rounds flattening against his organic metal skin as he scowls at the gunmen. More shots tear through her clothes, ricocheting off her own glistening skin harmlessly. Their number soon swells by two more as they're joined by Frenzy and Rogue, walking forward slowly and drawing fire from their unprotected peers.

And then the adults are there, a red, white, and blue blur whizzing over Emma's head as Captain America's signature weapon slams into one of the shooters. The round, patriotic shield rebounds off a van on its way back to its owner, a redhead in a black catsuit sliding past beneath it as she opens fire with twin pistols of her own. A moment later, a bestial roar announces the arrival of Instructor Howlett as he launches himself into the crowd, the bullets tearing into his flesh only enraging him more as his blades find their marks.

Further reinforcement comes in the form of a red beam of light that begins picking off the zealots one at a time, along with the crack of thunder and strikes of lightning. As the adults take up the defense of the school and its students, Emma and her three companions begin moving the wounded back behind the shields created by the telekines. As she steps out from behind the shield to search for more wounded, Emma pauses and turns to brush her fingers over Jean's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Jean. We're all going to be okay."

Beads of sweat trickle down Jean's face as she exerts herself, but she still manages to return an exhausted smile to the girl of diamond. Suddenly, the golden aura around Jean's head flickers and dies, her shield disappearing with an audible 'whoosh'. A look of confusion washes over the redhead's face and Emma glances down to find a spreading red spot slowly soaking Jean's blouse. The redhead's mouth works silently for a moment and then a whisper emerges. "…Emma…"

Shifting back to flesh and blood, Emma catches Jean as the redhead's legs give out. Panic wars with rage within the young blonde: concern for her girlfriend fighting for dominance against outrage that someone would dare touch what was hers. Spinning as best she can with Jean in her arms, her eyes lock on to the assassin as he lines up another shot. Lashing out with all of her hate and rage, Emma's mind easily overwhelms the psychic inhibitor worn by the shooter. A torrent of her power roars through his mind like a freight train, ushering him onward to the next great adventure in a wave of horrific agony. Her thirst for vengeance satisfied, Emma turns her attention back to her beloved. Tears streaming down her face, the blonde presses her hand to the hole in Jean's chest, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding. Looking around wildly, her hoarse screams echo across the school grounds. "Someone help me! Please!"

The massive blue form of Dr. Henry McCoy appears before Emma, saying something her mind can't acknowledge. Her everything focuses on the hurt girl in her arms, until a sharp shake from Dr McCoy rattles her free of her catatonia. Stumbling back, she watches the doctor's feline fingers work deftly as he fights to stabilize Jean's condition. He barks out orders to some of the school's medical staff and they converge, placing the wounded girl on a stretcher before racing back inside.

Staggering to her feet, Emma watches them carry her love into the school before turning to watch the last moments of the waning battle. She stares blankly at the other heroes and police arriving to apprehend the scattered few killers who survived the attack, and then slowly turns her attention dully to the corpses of children scattered around her.

_'…Emma? …Emma, where are you?'_

The soft whisper in her mind makes Emma whirl around. Is it her imagination? Or… _'Oiseau?'_

_'…Emma, I hurt…'_ As the words cross her psyche, all the pain and hurt of the last few minutes hit the blonde at once. Tears pour uncontrollably from Emma's blue eyes, nearly blinding her as she runs towards the school. Ignoring the elevators, she slams the door to the nearby stairwell open, thundering down the three flights to the medical bay. Bursting into the waiting area, she tries to make her way into one of the surgical rooms but is brought up short by the locked door. Collapsing against it, she sobs.

* * *

A warm hand gently caresses Emma's face and the blonde looks up, finding herself in an unfamiliar, pure white room. It's wholly unnatural in is featurelessness: the walls blend into the floor and ceiling, there's no visible source of illumination… there is only her and Jean. Slowly rising to her feet, she looks at the young redhead in confusion. _'What's going on? Where are we?'_

_'I'm sorry.'_ Looking away from Emma, Jean can't stop the tears that have welled up in her own eyes. _'I don't have long…'_

Horror shoots through Emma's heart and she takes a step forward, clutching at her girlfriend's hand. Unable to say anything at first, one word finally emerges. _'…no.'_

Jean turns back to her love, tears streaming down her face. She reaches out and places her hand on the blonde girl's chest, over her heart. After a moment, she pulls herself close to Emma, resting her cheek against the top of the smaller girl's head. _'I have to go. She says she needs me. That I have a higher purpose.'_

_'Who..?'_ Looking around the blank room, Emma's eyes fall on a corner. Her eyes hurt to look at it, almost burning, as a shape solidifies from the whiteness. After a moment, she can make out a glowing female form. It's radiant to the point of pain, and yet Emma refuses to look away. _'Who are you?'_

**_'I am She. I am the cycle. I am Death and Rebirth.'_** The voice crashes into Emma's very being, like the entire ocean onto a single grain of sand. **_'The Hatchling is needed.'_**

_'No!'_ Emma shouts at the Entity, trying to lash out with her psychic abilities to no avail as she clutches Jean to her chest possessively. _'She's mine! I love her! You can't have her!'_

The Entity stands before them, its burning eyes staring unblinkingly at the pair. It raises a hand and Emma finds herself lifted from the floor, pulled away from Jean as her arms forced out away from her sides as if she's being crucified. She wants to fight, wants to scream, but is unable to do either. Approaching the blonde, the Entity stares at Emma for a few seconds, looks back at Jean, and then returns her attention to Emma. **_'The Hatchling is needed. The world will need her, and she will need you.'_**

Staring down at her hands, Jean takes a deep breath and then looks up to meet Emma's eyes. _'I love you but… I have to go. Please don't hate me.'_

Before Emma can respond, the Entity places her palm on the blonde's chest and, with a push, forces her back into reality. Screaming in anguish as she falls to the floor, Emma swears she hears the cry of a bird of prey as she slips into unconsciousness.

* * *

A short time later, she awakens to find a man staring down at her. Quickly getting her bearings, she realizes she's still in the waiting room, sitting in one of the chairs. And then she realizes who he is: Dr. Bruce Banner, the man the school turns to when Dr. McCoy's prodigious skills simply aren't enough. This time, however, even he wasn't enough. Her icy blue gaze bores into his brown eyes as she straightens up in her chair. "I want to see her…"

Swallowing, Dr. Banner raises his hands in an attempt to pacify her. "I can understand that, Miss Frost, but I really don't think that would be wise…"

"I know she's gone, Doctor. I was in her mind with her when she died." Emma's voice dips to absolute zero as she slowly rises from her seat, taking a step towards him. "Don't make me force you into letting me see her, sir. It would make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

Taking a step backwards, Dr. Banner exchanges looks with the uncommonly serious-looking Dr. McCoy, who nods in assent. Sighing, the worn-looking brunet offers Emma his arm, waiting while she straightens her skirt with her free hand before leading her into the operating room. As they enter, the medical staff stop what they're doing and back away mutely as the slight young blonde is led towards the body in the center of the room.

Standing at the head of the surgical table, Emma looks down at the lifeless girl laying upon it. Her fiery hair, spread about her head like a halo, her large green eyes closed as if sleeping. Tears slowly roll down Emma's stoic face as she tries - and fails - to fight the pain. Making its way down her cheek, a single teardrop falls on her love's face as cracks begin to form in Emma's perfect diamond wall. The tears are followed by a choked sob, Dr. McCoy placing one large, warm paw on her back as she leans forward and buries her face in the neck of her lost love. Her body wracked by mournful tears as she pulls Jean's lifeless body towards her own, trying to push her own life force into the dead girl even though she recognizes the futility of it all.

Jean is gone.

"I love you, Oiseau. And I always will."


	2. The End of the World pt 1

Lexi's Note: This will be one of the last few that will be in chronological order. Once I get it set up, we'll start delving into their past, and once I'm done there, there will be a time jump forward into the comic I will be doing (where the survivors will be about two years older).

* * *

_May 16, 2009  
The Xavier School for the Gifted - Salem Center, New York  
9:38am_

* * *

Staring blankly into her mirror, Emma makes no sound as her friend runs a brush through her platinum blond hair. The sun shines through the window of Emma's room with the rosy hue of morning, but a noticeable heaviness lingers in the air as the two girls sit in silence. Placing the brush on the blonde's vanity, the violet butterfly mask of her power signature erupts into place in front of Betsy's face. Two small, fancy silver combs studded with diamonds are enveloped by energy of an identical hue and float through the air, coming to rest in the English girl's now-empty hand.

The violet energy next appears around the mass of blond hair cascading down Emma's back and, with a bit of concentration, twists it into a bun at the nape of the young blonde's neck. Delicately, Betsy slips the combs into place, decorating as well as holding the bun in place. "There we go," the amethyst-haired girl whispers. Circling around to stand at Emma's side, Betsy takes her hand and gently guides the near-catatonic girl to her feet. Guiding her to the middle of her room, Betsy releases Emma's hand before summoning a long black coat to her with her powers. Reaching down, Betsy lifts Emma's left arm before telekinetically slipping it into one of the coat's sleeves, letting it fall limply to Emma's side before raising her right arm and repeating the process. She waits a beat before sighing softly and moving back around in front of her friend, slowly buttoning up Emma's coat for her, wincing as the repetitive movement irritates her wounded arm.

"Oh… Elisabeth… what happened to your arm?" Emma's sad eyes drop to the sling on her friend's left arm. Heavy bags below her faded blue eyes show her exhaustion. Concern and confusion wash across her fine features, looking from Betsy's wounded arm to her bright blue eyes.

Betsy offers a faint, likewise sad smile at the concern. "It's just a scratch. I'll be okay. We need to get going; I'm sure the Professor and the others will be waiting for us." Taking the smaller girl's hand in her own, Betsy guides Emma out of her room and down the hallway towards the grand staircase, using her mind to close the door to Emma's bedroom behind them. As they descend the stairs, Emma sees Professor Xavier and his attendant Scott, as well as Instructor Howlett and Miss Munroe, gathered by the door. A variety of emotions wash over her mind, from Xavier and Ororo's cool sadness, to James' seething rage, and Scott's indifference.

"Hello, Elisabeth. Emma." Xavier's soothing baritone, along with the tenderness in his demeanor, attempts to set the girls at ease. Emma's blank stare resolves itself on the professor's outstretched hand. Taking her hand in his, he placed his other hand atop hers. Looking at the blonde with concern, he frowns. "Are you sure you want to do this? I do not think anyone would blame you if you didn't." A moment passes before Emma offers a faint nod. "Very well. We should be on our way, then; it's a bit of a drive."

With that, Scott guides Xavier's wheelchair out the front door and down the ramp to the driveway. Emma, being led by Betsy, follows behind, with Howlett and Munroe bringing up the rear. After helping transfer the older gentleman into the back seat of the black limousine, Scott turns with a glare at the rough Canadian before collapsing the wheelchair and placing it into the trunk and closing the lid. Munroe steps forward and helps Betsy guide Emma into the car, waiting for Betsy to climb in before getting in herself. Howlett gives a little grunt as he gently closes the door behind the young African beauty, and Emma watches as he turns to face the rigid brunet standing behind him. "Can I help you, kid?"

Scott looks Instructor Howlett up and down slowly before speaking, his words clearly audible even inside the car. "Yeah. Make sure nothing happens to the Professor."

The gruff combat instructor's words are likewise easy for Emma to make out. "I don't need a lecture from you of all people about protecting people, Slim. They'll come home safe." With that, he turns and stalks to the driver side door and climbs in. The engine of the black car starts, then with a small bark of the tires, the groups starts out on their journey.

* * *

Standing at a window, two figures watch the car leave, Dr. Henry McCoy's massive feline form dwarfing the woman beside him. The woman's strong features are complimented by her ruddy skin tone, a black and red sari wrapping around her body. Turning from the window, she begins walking through the empty halls as the good doctor falls into step behind her.

"The blonde girl, Emma Frost? I am worried about her," the woman's deep voice intones softly. They walk slowly down the hallway, the majority of students sent home after the massacre. The tall Indian woman turning her head to the Beast who's now beside her, matching her stride. "According to the girls who share her dorm, she's not been eating. She's refused to leave her room until today, or communicate with anyone save young Miss Braddock."

Henry nods at that; between his senses and his training, it had been hard to ignore the way Emma's health had declined since the attack. "Well, Dr. Kapatī, she… they've all been through a great deal. Sixteen dead in the initial attack, and eight more in the aftermath. She didn't enter her transmorph state until partway through the attack; she would have felt each death before then, thanks to her powers. While in diamond state, she helped transport several students to safety. Two of them later died. That would be enough to traumatize any teenage girl. But when you take into account that one of the two dozen dead is Emma's girlfriend Jean-"

Stopping mid-stride with a suddenness that surprises even Hank, Dr. Kapatī turns to look at the large mutant. "Her girlfriend? Are you saying Miss Frost and Miss Grey were… courting each other, Doctor? That's not nor- noted in the files I received."

"I consider the personal lives of my students to be just that: personal. From a legal standpoint if nothing else, the less I know about the nocturnal comings and goings in the dormitories, the better. That being said, it was quite evident to anyone with eyes that they were quite infatuated with each other." Suddenly, Henry remembers that there is at least one reason beyond their X-gene that would have earned the girls hatred from certain portions of society. A look of concern washes over his leonine features as he glances down at the comparatively diminutive woman. "Is that a problem?"

"Oh no. It just helps a few previously unexplainable things fall into place." Dr. Kapatī peers over the top of her small glasses with an odd little smile that Henry doesn't quite understand. "Obviously this will change the tone of my grief therapy sessions with young Miss Frost." With a nod from Dr. McCoy, they continue to walk down the hallway until they reach the elevator. Pressing the button, the pair stand and wait for it to arrive.

* * *

_May 16, 2009  
The Grey Home - Annandale-on-Hudson, New York  
11:13am_

* * *

Greetings blur around Emma as she enters the Grey family home, her eyes unfocused as she goes though the motions of human interaction. Her stupor is interrupted as she feels familiar arms pull her into an embrace, eyes clenching tight as she returns the hug. Standing there for a few moments, she hears her father's soothing voice in her ear. "How are you holding up, Princess?"

All Emma can summon in response is a choked sob, tears welling up in her eyes. Clutching her tightly, Winston Frost holds his grieving daughter, letting her cry into his chest. After a few long minutes, Emma's sobbing slows and she hesitantly breaks the embrace. With a look of sympathy, her father dabs the tears away from her puffy eyes, as she lets out a deep breath punctuated with a hiccup. "I miss her so much…" She takes a deep, shuddering breath as she tries to compose herself. Her brows furrow in thought even as her hands try to rub away the damp spot on her father's suit jacket. A few seconds later, she looks up at him in confusion. "Why… why are you here, Dad? I thought you were in France."

"Of course I was going to be here for my daughter at a time like this, Emma. I'm not your mother, after all." His large hand brushes against her cheek comfortingly as the subtle dig at her oft-absent mother brings the faintest hint of a smile to Emma's lips. Taking her small hand in his, her father leads Emma into the Grey family's living room. A familiar, tall, dark-haired man steps into view, shaking her father's free hand. His grief bombards her psyche and Emma shudders before a sense of…. stillness… washes over her. Looking down, she notices that the hand her father holds is now glittering and clear. An involuntary shift. She hasn't done that before. Not since before Xavier's. Since before Jean…

When her attention returns to the dark-haired man, she sees his mouth is moving but none of the words make sense. Finally, her mind identifies the man as Jean's father, John, but his words are still a faint buzzing in her ears. As he grows closer, she notices his eyes are as bloodshot as the ones she saw staring back at her in the mirror earlier, and then his arms are wrapped around her. His hug is warm like her father's and despite her best attempts to stay composed, she's soon crying again. When Dr. Grey breaks the hug, he brushes the tears away and offers her a tremulous smile, just like her father did only minutes before.

As she watches her father converse with Jean's, Emma feels a gentle tug at her right hand. A flicker of amethyst is all her mind needs to identify the source: Betsy. Pulling her other hand free of her father's grip, she allows her friend to lead her to the sofa in the middle of the room, an oasis of calm in the middle of the wake. Sitting on the couch, Emma stares blankly at her hands while Betsy goes to get them something to eat and drink. A small tuft of fiery red hair catches Emma's attention, her mind focusing like a laser on it. She sees a bright blue eye peeking out from around what she assumes is Dr. Grey's recliner. "Hello?"

Tilting her head to one side, the young girl eyes the blonde for a few seconds before crawling out of her hiding place behind the chair. Standing before Emma, the small redhead looks up at Emma and a soft gasp escapes her lips as her eyes drink the girl's soft face in greedily. No older that nine, the girl is a younger version of her Jean, right down to her wild orange-red mane. Abruptly, Emma wrenches her eyes away from the little girl in the frilly black dress, feeling her body ache to release the tears that her transmorph form is incapable of producing. After a few deep breaths, she regains her composure and turns back to her new friend with a faint smile. "Why hello there. I'm guessing you'd be Sara?"

The girl responds with a giant smile and a nod before offering her hand. For the first time in a week and a half, Emma finds herself smiling as she takes Sara's hand, the redhead giving it an energetic shake. "Yep! I'm Sara! You're Emma, right? Jeanie's girlfriend? She talked about you a lot. You're shinier than in her stories, though. And more see through."

Emma's smile falters for a moment as her heart clenches at Jean's name. "Ye… yes, I'm Jean's girlfriend. She spoke highly of you too." Looking down at her hand, the blonde grimaces at the visible reminder of her slip in control. "And mutants are a bit like snowflakes, Sara: no two of us are quite the same."

"Snowflakes, huh?" Sara turns Emma's hand back and forth as she examines it. "Is that why your name is Emma Frost?"

"…not quite, Sara." Emma watches as a pair of heart-wrenchingly familiar green eyes scrutinizes her for a few seconds longer, and then Sara wanders off into the crowd of gathered mourners. A soft cough attracts her attention and Emma looks to her left, watching as Betsy approaches with two small, floating plates and a pair of cups. Hesitantly, the blonde reaches forward and takes one of each, leaving the others for Betsy to set lightly on the coffee table.

Taking a seat to Emma's left, Betsy reaches up and rests her hand on the blonde's shoulder. "How are you holding up, luv?"

"I… I don't know," Emma responds in a hushed tone, looking at the slice of sandwich on her plate.

"It's okay to grieve, trust me," Betsy replies compassionately. Her hand slides down to rub small circles on Emma's back, and then she nods at the plate in Emma's hand. "You should eat. They had dram and biscuits… but I felt you'd do better with a sandwich and Sprite. You should probably shift back, though. Otherwise things might get a mite awkward, yeah?"

Nodding, Emma furrows her brow and forces herself out of her transmorph state before raising the sandwich to her mouth. Before she can take her first bite, an ocean of grief washes over her from all sides, drowning her mind. Then stillness descends again and Emma looks down, expecting to see a diamond hand gripping her sandwich once more. It's flesh, though, and so she looks to her left at Betsy, who offers her a pained smile as violet energy surrounds her head. Normally, Emma would be outraged at the notion that she needs a crutch of some kind, especially for something as simple as shielding her mind, but today… today she feels only gratitude.

Not wanting to think about anything in particular at that point, Emma's attention turns back to her sandwich. She takes a bite, chews mindlessly, and then takes another with robot-like repetition. Eventually, the soft spike of pain when teeth meets finger makes Emma realize her sandwich is gone and she leans forward, placing her empty plate on the coffee table. Reclining back into the sofa, she lets her mind settle back into its quiet fugue state, only to be interrupted as an elbow pokes gently against her ribs. Betsy leans in, pointing at the tall blond man in a green Army service uniform, a black armband wrapped around his left bicep. "Oh my God, Emma, look! It's Captain America," she whispers. Before Emma can even process that, Betsy's attention is jumping onward to a new target. "And Tony Stark," Betsy murmurs in excited tones. Blue eyes landing on the latter, Emma frowns faintly as she takes in the tall brunet with his elegantly trimmed goatee, wearing a black suit that she knew cost more than the average American made in a week. While her father got along well enough with Tony Stark, she found some of his habits a bit… distasteful. Then again, she mused, what else could she expect from the nouveau riche?

Attention moving onward, Emma neatly intercepts the next elbow aimed at her ribs. "Yes, Betsy, I'm quite aware that Thor Odinson is here as well. He's rather… distinctive." Personally, she feels 'distinctive' is a bit of an understatement when discussing a six and a half foot tall Norse god wearing ornate golden robes, but it would suffice given her lack of interest in expending the energy to come up with something better.

With her mind shielded from the outside, the hand that comes to rest on Emma's right shoulder causes the small blonde to start with a jump. Looking back over her shoulder, she finds Elaine Grey, Jean's mother, looking at her with a comforting smile. Circling around, she lowers herself to sit at Emma's right before opening her arms, offering her a hug. Another round of sobs wrack Emma's small form as she collapses into the older woman's arms, burying her face in Elaine's chest.

Petting the young girl's pale blond hair, Elaine presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "Shhh. It's all right, Emma." Peering up at the kind woman, Emma does her best to rebottle her emotions, sniffling as she takes off her glasses and wipes her eyes on the arm of her dress. Elaine looks at the hurt girl before her and offers a loving smile to the girl who gave her heart to her daughter. Brushing the lock of hair from Emma's face, she uses her thumb to gently dry the remaining tears on the blonde's cheeks. "Come on, hon, they're getting ready to take her…" Elaine's voice catches for a moment, before she continues. "…to take Jean to the cemetery."

Feeling her emotional dam threatening to burst again, Emma looks down at her hands in a panic. Where is it? She'd had it just this morning. She couldn't have- a hand on hers makes Emma look over to her best friend, letting out a sigh of relief as Betsy offers her a small, white leather box. "I slipped it into my sling on the way out of your room. I was wondering where you thought you'd put it. Don't exactly have pockets in that thing." With a tired smile, Emma takes the box before mouthing a 'thank you' to her friend. Rising in time with Elaine, Emma takes the older woman's hand as she's led to the simple white casket at the other end of the room.

Time seems to slow for Emma, each moment feels like an eternity as she wills herself to look at the body in the casket. Her only thoughts are of how pale Jean is, how her glow is gone, how even her freckles seem faded. Emma can feel her heart beating, she can hear it, as she places the small box on Jean's unmoving chest. Her hand moves of its own will, coming to rest on the carefully brushed, rust-colored tresses. Her hand gently stroking the lifeless girl's hair, Emma's heart pounds away at her emotional walls, tears roll from her eyes, her breathing becoming rough. Memories flood her mind, of nights where she repeated this action to sooth her love after nightmares, or sometimes just to touch her.

Arms wrap around her from behind and Emma feels herself being pulled away, but can't summon the strength to fight it. Vague recognition in her mind says it's Jean's mother, but those words have little meaning in her current state. Blankly, she watches as Captain America steps forward to close the lid on the casket; her mind races, wanting to tell them that she's not finished, but nothing comes out. She watches as her father, Jean's father, and Jean's brother Liam move to stand at one side of the casket, even as Captain America is joined by Tony Stark and Thor assemble along the other.

As they carry the casket out, Emma feels herself guided out behind them. The procession falls into line in the street; as they walk, she hears the thump of drums and the keening of Highland pipes, but cannot place the familiar tune. Slowly following along as they move through the street, Emma watches the six men carrying her love to her final resting place, each step getting incrementally more difficult. The mournful tune of the pipes resonate through her, as if they are singing her pain, her heart pounding along with the drums behind her. Filing into the cemetery, she watches the men march her love's casket to the hole in the ground, and her heart skips a beat as they place the white coffin on the bands holding above its grave. Before she can move any closer, angry murmurs fill the air and Betsy lets out a noise halfway between an angry hiss and a frightened squeak. "Oh no, it's Magneto."

Twisting her head back and forth, Emma soon spots a tall, elderly man in a deep purple and black, military-styled uniform. He crosses the grass slowly, flanked by a pair of escorts in matching black business suits: Mystique and Sabretooth, her mind absently supplies. Captain America and several other men quickly move to intercept him, speaking in hushed whispers about… the Greys, and possibly her, based on where their gazes go. Eventually, Magneto alone is allowed to pass, making his way over to Jean's grieving father and offering an envelope that John reluctantly accepts. A few seconds later, the rest of Emma's suspicions are confirmed as he makes his way over to stand before her. The old man's tired eyes gaze into Emma's. "…Miss Frost, I presume?"

"…ye… yes, sir…"

"Know this, young lady: I understand exactly how you feel, for I know the pain of losing a loved one thanks to the bigotry of flatscans. And I will not rest until we live in a world accepts us, even if it must be forced upon them." Even with Betsy dampening her abilities, Emma can feel the anger and pain in his cold words. But before she can respond, to thank him or even to commiserate, he turns and walks away. Taking his place at the edge of the crowd of mourners, he is rejoined by his escorts and Emma watches as Sabretooth pantomimes a gun with his finger at Instructor Howlett, who only responds with a faint snarl.

As the inevitable draws closer, Emma casts about for something… anything to distract herself with. And so as Steve Rogers makes his way to the head of Jean's casket, her eyes begin to jump back and forth wildly, cataloguing the mourners. Her family. Jean's. Betsy beside her. Professor Xavier and Instructor Howlett. Miss Munroe standing beside a handsome African gentleman in an ebony bodysuit, his mask in hand and his sculpted features soft and warm as he speaks in hushed tones with his betrothed. Several other students who boarded at the school full time. A handful of other students from the New York area and their families. Magneto and his companions.

And then there are the post-human celebrities. Tony Stark. Thor. Natasha Romanova, clad in an immaculate Russian Army dress uniform, her red hair and pale skin radiant compared to the pale grey fabric. As if she knows she's being watched, Natasha's cold blue eyes meet Emma's, melting into a look of sadness and shared loss. Then she looks away and Emma's gaze wanders onward.

After Natasha comes a series of individuals that Emma can't identify but doesn't doubt Betsy can. A brunet wearing sunglasses and a slender blonde, both in crisp black suits. A taller and more muscular blonde in a blue Air Force dress uniform, her toes dangling an inch or two above the grass as she floats at attention. A strawberry blond in what Emma is fairly certain is the New York Police Department's version of formal attire. A large black man in the Marine Corps' blue dress uniform, the distinctive sabre brushing against his left thigh. Between them, a diminutive woman in NYPD blue, her jacket modified with two slits that allow a quartet of diaphanous insectoid wings to lay comfortably against her back.

Suddenly, Betsy is falling away behind her as her father moves to stand at her right hand, Jean's mother and father at her left. Emma feels someone's arm around her shoulders but has no idea whose, her eyes fixed on the glistening white casket before her, the darkness of the hole in the earth a shocking contrast.

The pipes and drums fade away as Steve stands over Jean's casket. Clearing his throat, he begins to speak, his deep voice penetrating the haze in Emma's mind,

**"Family, friends, mourners. I asked the Greys if I could have the honor of giving Jean's eulogy. I'd like to start by being honest with you: I didn't have the privilege of knowing her during her brief time here on Earth. Unlike the rest of you, I never got to shake her hand. I never got to see her smile, or to hear her voice. I never had the chance to congratulate her for her successes, or comfort her after a failure. Those of you who did… you were blessed to have this brave young woman in your lives.**

**Nine days ago, Jean Grey again proved to one and all that she was an incredible girl. When the Xavier School for the Gifted came under attack from anti-mutant bigots of the worst kind, she fought bravely to defend the lives of her friends and fellow students. She and a small group of others were willing to put their lives on the line to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. She stood against cowards who targeted children, children whose only crime was to be born different. She did so with no thought for herself or her own safety. And in the end, she made the ultimate sacrifice so others might live.**

**I envy those of you who had the chance to know Jean Grey in life. Those of you who loved her. You were given a gift that the rest of us weren't, and we are poorer for it.**

**I spoke with a number of students from Xavier's after the attack, wanting to know more about this brave girl and the others who lost their lives in the attack. And if there was one thing that I took away from each conversation, it was that Jean wasn't the type of girl who would want us to mourn her loss. She'd want us to celebrate her life, her strength, her accomplishments. And so I will do my best to do just that… and remember her for the true hero she is. Thank you."**

Taking a step backwards, the man known as Captain America snaps to attention and salutes as somewhere off behind Emma, a bugler begins playing Taps.

***CRACK!***

Eyes going wide as tears erupt, the sound of the first volley tears through Emma's mind, her heart forgetting how to beat as the riflemen clear their rifles with precise movements. For the first time since the full manifestation of her powers, the psychic noise she's become so accustomed to begins to fade as in the distance, someone calls the riflemen to ready…

***CRACK!***

The second volley leaves another gaping wound in her psyche. She wants to scream, but nothing will come out; her heart still refuses to beat. Her vision begins to dim as her legs refuse to support their burden, and Emma hears the call to ready again. She wants them to stop, she wants to prepare for that awful noise…

***CRACK!***

A soft grunt slips from her lips as she falls to the ground, her vision focused on the bright green of the grass and the light reflecting painfully off her glittering fingers. She sees feet closing in around her, getting in the way of the white box holding her heart in the distance. She hears someone calling her name, but she doesn't care anymore. The world goes dark, and the hurting fades.


	3. Samsarā

Lexi's Note: Starting next chapter, I'm going to be starting the 'non-linear' part of the story, where we get to see the growth of Jean and Emma's relationship. There will still be a bit of organization because, well, I don't need it to be overly complicated.

* * *

_May 17, 2009  
The Xavier School for the Gifted - Salem Center, New York  
7:18pm_

* * *

Walking down the empty corridor towards her room, Emma reflects on the unnatural silence in the normally lively girls' dormitory. Her fellow students were sent home after the attack on the school, leaving her the sole occupant. As if hitting a wall, the young blonde freezes in place, her heart pounding in her chest as she sees the familiar little figure on the door beside her. Taking a deep breath, she turns to the door, her eyes falling the bright yellow cartoon sun. The friendly face of the paper cutout greets her, the word 'Grey' written in a playful and billowy cursive under the cherubic, smiling face. Reaching up and tracing the glittery letters, Emma only lets out a shuddering sigh, her tears long since dried up. She rests her forehead against the door, with nothing but her own breathing as company.

Hesitantly, she finds herself reaching for the door handle, hoping that it's locked so she doesn't have to try and handle what she knows is behind the door. Her fingers brush against the cool, brushed nickel. Drawing in a deep breath, she wraps her fingers around it and applies the faintest bit of pressure…

_'Emma. Your father is here. We would like to meet with you in my office.'_ Professor Charles Xavier's measured baritone rings in her head.

_'…I'm on my way.'_ Resisting the instinct to shift to her diamond form and ignore the Professor, she notices her hand has already left the door handle. Emma glances down at her hand with a frown before letting it fall to her side. Attention returning to the dark wooden door, she stares at it for a few more seconds before turning away to head for Xavier's office. "I'll… I'll be back."

Her shoes make sharp clicks against the hard marble tiles as she walks, the sound echoing off the warm, wood paneled walls. The rhythmic noise comes to an abrupt stop as she pauses in a familiar spot at the top of the staircase connecting the third floor to the lower levels of the school. Glancing to her left, Emma spots a photo hanging on the wall and slowly makes her way over to it, staring at the five familiar faces that smile back at her. It seems like almost a lifetime ago, she muses as her fingers trace over the face of her dead girlfriend, Jean's smile proving infectious even in reproduction as it creeps onto Emma's face. The smile falters as she takes in the rest of the image of her former squad before disappearing altogether. With Warren, Allison, and Teresa graduating and Jean's death, she's all that's left of the New Mutants now. Another wave of loneliness washes over her, and she turns away.

Two flights down the massive staircase later, Emma reaches the ground floor and walks through the main hall, watching the last few students as they sit in a circle, chattering quietly as they wait for the bus that will take them to the airport. Eventually she reaches a large, familiar mahogany door. After a gentle knock, the door opens to reveal the headmaster's attendant. "Nice of you to join us, Miss Frost. The Professor has been waiting for you."

"A pleasure as always, Mister Summers. Tell me, have you been taking lessons in emotional depth from Kristen Stewart?" Before Scott can think up a suitable rejoinder, Emma is pushing her way past and into the office proper. Seated behind his desk, Xavier smiles soothingly at Emma, her father likewise doing his best to look reassuring as he lowers himself into the chair on the opposite side of the headmaster's desk before patting the arm in invitation.

As she moves to join him, Emma's eyes sweep over the others in the room: Doctor McCoy, clad in a lab coat as usual, and… a small frown forms as Emma's bloodshot eyes lock onto an unknown. While Emma doesn't waste her time paying attention to every last person to cross her path, she's fairly certain she would remember seeing this particular person around campus at some point: a tall, elegant Indian woman, clad in a black turtleneck sweater and matching knee-length pencil skirt. Deep brown eyes peer at her over the top of the woman's small reading glasses as the light of Xavier's office creates subtle highlights in the long, ebony hair the woman has pulled back tightly in a bun.

Eventually, Emma dismisses the newcomer. If she's present for a reason, someone will inform her. "You wanted to see me, Professor?" Turning her attention back to the headmaster, she perches carefully on the arm of the very expensive chair her father is seated in. A wave of irritation floats her way, originating from the man hovering behind her, and Emma can't help herself, "Yes, Mister Summers, I know exactly how much this chair cost. Seeing as how I'm not a heifer, unlike those trollops you've been seen around the grounds with-"

"Scott. Emma. Please." The irritated grunt of a supposed adult being scolded like a child by his mentor is reward enough for Emma, enough to quash her irritation at being interrupted, even. Steepling his fingers at his chin, the elderly gentleman takes a moment to collect his thoughts before moving forward. "Emma, we asked you to come because we're worried you might have sustained a lasting psychic injury from being with Jean when… when she passed."

Breaking eye contact with the elder mutant for a brief moment, the young blonde fights with her own nature as she forces herself to stay in her flesh and blood state. Her… premature crystallizations… are a sign of her current emotional turmoil and nothing more, Emma tells herself. The last thing she needs is to give them fodder for their ridiculous theory. Feeling her father's warm hand on hers, she pushes her feelings down and looks back to the Professor.

"While I haven't probed your mind out of respect for your privacy, Doctors McCoy and Banner shared their experiences from that day with me. Between that and your… fainting spell… at Jean's funeral, your father and I feel it would be best if you attended grief therapy," Xavier expresses with compassion and sympathy.

Clenching her jaw as she pushes the resurgent pain back down, Emma finds herself again fighting to stay in control. Another squeeze of her hand distracts her and she draws reassurance from her father's presence, raising her head proudly. "Do I get a say, or has the committee already voted me to the stake?" Her voice is cold and detached as her pain slowly begins to give way to anger. Rising to her feet and stepping towards Xavier's desk, she pulls her hand free of her father's with a gentle tug. Staring defiantly at the headmaster, her arms cross over her chest as one fine blond brow rises.

"Of course you do," her father replies gently. Leaning forward, his hand finds hers again and this time she doesn't try to shake free.

"Yes, Emma, you do get a say." The Professor's voice redirects her attention back to him. The old man's grey-blue eyes meet hers before looking towards the mystery woman seated on the antique sofa along the wall, guiding Emma's attention her way. "Before you make a decision, would you at least permit me to introduce the grief therapist who has been working with the others?"

"Fine." Emma's eyes follow Xavier's as she turns to face the mystery woman, a partial identity now established.

"Hello, Miss Frost." The dignified woman rises to her feet gracefully and makes her way over to the comparatively small blonde teen, offering her hand. After a long moment of contemplation, Emma shakes it. "My name is Dr. Asgari Kapatī and it is… perhaps not a pleasure to meet you. Nice, then, given what the alternatives are? If circumstances were at all pleasant, after all, my services would not be needed. Alas, they are, and so your headmaster has invited me to serve as a grief therapist here at the school."

"So gushingly glad you could join us here at Xavier's, Doctor," Emma responds, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she releases the doctor's hand, arms crossing over her chest again defensively. She doesn't want help. She doesn't need help. But the one thing she wants or needs less is to have the faculty breathing down her neck every moment of every day, waiting for her to crack as if she's made of glass and not diamond. And so she makes a decision she's certain she'll regret, but is equally sure is a necessary evil. Pulling herself up to her full five foot two inch glory, she eyes the much taller doctor with detached arrogance. Then she turns away and walks towards the door, waving dismissively. "Very well, but on three conditions."

"Oh Emma…" Her father's voice, thick with disappointment, almost makes her hesitate.

Almost.

"My first condition is that it's one-on-one only. No group therapy. The second is that I choose the roster for the next New Mutants. Freshmen, poaching from other squads, whoever I want, no questions asked." Staring at the door, Emma takes a deep breath to steady herself before looking back over her shoulder at Xavier, Dr. Kapatī, and - most importantly of all - her father. "Finally, no one is to enter Jean's room. Not now, not this fall… not until I say so. No one will be assigned to it, and I will be the one to keep it straightened and clean. If that will be all? I will see you Monday, Dr. Kapatī. Father, I will gather my bags and meet you at the car."

Before anyone can answer, she turns and exits the lavish office. She can hear their hushed voices murmuring the moment the door closed, but she doesn't care. She just stands for a moment, savoring her victory, before walking back to her room.

* * *

_May 17, 2009  
The Frost Summer Home - East Hampton, NY  
9:32pm_

* * *

After two quiet car rides and an equally silent helicopter flight over Long Island Sound, Emma and Winston pull into the garage of the family's summer home. Gathering her bags, the pair silently make their way to Emma's room. Depositing the bags he's carrying on her bed, the elder Frost turns to his daughter. "Are you going to be okay here by yourself over the summer?"

"Yes, Dad, we've been over this. You have to go to work, Cordelia's at equestrian camp, Christian has his own life, and Mother… well, Mother's off doing who knows what with Adrienne and I'm perfectly fine with that. I have my phone, a credit card, and I'm sure Christian will come running to my rescue if I give him the slightest excuse. I'll be fine." Offering her first genuine smile since her encounter with Sara on That Day, she wraps her arms around her father's waist. Winston wraps his arms around his little girl, hugging her tightly, and then presses a kiss to the top of the head. Emma lets out a shuddering sigh. "I miss her, Dad, but I'll be okay. I promise."

Lowering himself to one knee in front of his daughter, Winston takes Emma's hands in his. "I know you loved her, Princess, so it's going to hurt. Just know that I'm here, and so is your brother. And hell, even your mother and sisters are. In their own, awkward way, that is."

Emma lets out a disgusted snort as she thinks back to the last time her mother and her girlfriend interacted. "Pfft. Let's not forget what Mother dearest called her at my birthday party."

"Must you remind me? She's just… old-fashioned. It's hard for her to come to grips with the fact that her daughter is gay." A pained look washes across Winston's face as his thumbs rub back and forth gently over the backs of her hands. "She was just as bad when Christian came out. But she grew into it after a while. She'll do the same with you. For now just… stay strong. Don't let her get to you. And remember that you make me proud to be your father."

"Okay. I think this is probably for the best anyway. I need the time alone to think." Knowing how that might sound, especially after the meeting today at Xavier's, Emma squeezes her father's hands to reassure him.

"All right, Princess, I'll let you unpack. I need to shower, call your mother, and catch some sleep before heading out in the morning." After giving her one more hug and a kiss on the forehead, Winston rises to his feet and heads for the doorway. "If you're not up before I leave, be safe and I love you."

"I love you too, Dad." Her smile slowly fades as he leaves her bedroom and then disappears entirely. Sighing, she turns her attention to her bags. Opening her carry-on bag, she digs out a clean pair of panties, a white camisole, and her favorite blue pajama bottoms. Standing alone for a moment, she stares at her clothes as if unable to decipher what to do with them. Eventually, she gathers them up and heads to the shower.

After spending far longer than normal standing in the shower, staring at the water swirling around the drain, Emma climbs out and dries off with her soft, warm terry towel before dressing. Padding quietly from the cool tile floors of the bathroom to the warm pine floors of the hallway, she comes to a sudden halt as her stomach declares its emptiness. With a small squeak, she changes direction and heads downstairs to the kitchen. Rummaging through the sparsely-stocked refrigerator, she finds a fresh sandwich, wrapped in the familiar Luigi's bag. _'I'm sure Christian won't miss part of this.'_ With a sly grin, she pulls out the sandwich and cuts it in half, putting one half on a plate and the other - carefully rewrapped - back into the bag.

Sitting at the bar, Emma munches noisily on her purloined sandwich, realizing for the first time how hungry she truly is. Each large bite is barely chewed before being swallowed, another following quickly after. With a quickness that would shock those used to her daintier, more feminine public eating habits, she wolfs down the sandwich, leaving her sitting there licking her fingers. Eventually, Emma hops off her stool and wanders over to stick the plate in the dishwasher. After puttering around for a few more seconds, she grabs a bottle of Evian from the fridge before heading back upstairs to her room, feeling rather stuffed.

Upon returning to her room, Emma heads straight for her messenger bag and retrieves her laptop and its power cord. Settling the laptop on her desk, she crawls under the desk to plug in one end of the charger before wiggling her way backwards to freedom. Throwing herself into her chair, she connects the other end of the cord to her laptop before opening the cool aluminum lid and pressing the power button. She's greeted by the familiar chime of startup, followed by a light grey screen marred by a darker grey apple. After a bit more waiting, the login screen finally appears and Emma finds herself hesitating, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Letting out a deep sigh, she types in her password, whispering each letter: "J-E-A-N-N-I-E-4-E-V-E-R". Pressing the Return key, there's a brief pause and then her desktop springs into place.

Her finger glides over the trackpad, clicking on the Mail icon and starting it bouncing as it loads, then she's up and wandering over to her messenger bag, rummaging for her headphones. When her hand brushes against her white iPhone 3G, she grabs it and its charging cable as well, before returning to plop back down in her chair. Plugging everything in and slipping on her headphones, she opens iTunes and taps the Shuffle button before hitting play. Humming along to the music, she switches back to Mail and eyes the forty-two unread emails warily. "Sigh. This… is going to take a while."

Slowly but surely, Emma begins to chew through the pile, deleting some and answering others. Reassuring friends and family and friends of family that she's okay. Learning Betsy's back in London and how she plans to spend her time there. Reading up on the latest news from her fan club. Not that they know it's her, of course; she's smart enough to have used a pseudonym when registering: 'Esme Cuckoo'. She finds it an amusing distraction, logging in every so often to find out what people are saying about her. Reaching the 'Picture of the Week' portion of the newsletter, she grimaces. Calling it 'wretched' would be a compliment. Opening Stickies, she makes a note to see if she can find a way to get ahold of that 'Forge' fellow she's heard a few of the professors mention in connection to computer needs. That monstrosity should not be on the Internet. Anywhere. Ever.

One piece of spam email makes Emma giggle softly before sticking her tongue out at it: the obligatory breast enlargement offer. _'I could try one of these,'_ she thinks to herself, _'or I could just save my money and go with what I know works: a surgeon.'_ Delete. Then comes an even more baffling piece of spam. _'If they think I need bigger breasts, why would I need a bigger penis? Or vice versa? Oh, Internet, you're so strange sometimes.'_

Next, she skims through an email from her online friend Tessa before eying the attached photo of a gorgeous black corset. Want. In white, of corset, but she still wants it bad. Not paying attention to the upper-right window, she opens the next email… and then a wave of confusion, hurt, and pain washes over her like a tidal wave.

* * *

_From: Jean Grey  
To: Emma Frost  
__Date: May 7, 2009 9:12:23 AM EDT  
Subject: Just… had to get this out._

Okay… I'm sitting here bored out of my mind in Biology. (OMG… sooo dullll, kill me now -.-)

All I can think about is last night. I'm terrified that I pushed you into something you didn't want. I woke up this morning and you were gone, did I do something wrong? It's just, going with you to watch your team play, and the wonderful dinner, everything seemed perfect. If I did something wrong, if I pushed you, please tell me, I'll do whatever I can to make everything better. :'(

I love you so much,  
Your Oiseau 3

PS: If everything's wrecked by my being stupid… I folded your jersey and it's on my writing desk.

PPS: Stupid runny makeup. :P

* * *

A choked sob slips from Emma's lips, the screen blurred by her tears as her fingers clutch at the keys. Her mind dull, trying to find a way to escape the emotions pounding into her. The music in her ears nothing more than harsh noise, the screen a bright blur, as her fingers find the lid. Forcing the lid of her laptop down, it snaps shut, bringing silence and darkness to Emma's room.


	4. Moving Forward, Looking Back

Lexi's Note: - This will be the first of the chapters that will be telling the beginnings of Emma and Jean's relationship. Showing how they both got to where they are on that fateful day.

* * *

_May 18, 2009  
The Office of Dr Asgari Kapatī - Manhattan, New York  
1:17PM_

* * *

Looking down at the issue of _Cosmo_ in her hands, Emma Frost rolls her eyes at the interview with mother in the magazine. The photos of her mother and older sister makes her sneer slightly, their painted on faces and vacant smiles, only serving to remind her of the loathing she has for the two women. A soft cough catches her attention, the young man sitting behind the reception desk smiling at her. Placing the magazine back on the pile of sordid garbage on the corner tables, the young blonde raises a finely manicured eyebrow, "Yes?"

"Dr. Kapatī will see you in a moment," the young dark haired man assures her, making Emma frown at his soft Jersey accent. Idly, she finds herself wondering what exit he was from… and if she'd ever meet someone that joke actually wasn't relevant with. Nodding at the receptionist as she stands, Emma reaches down to straighten her pale blue dress before making her way across the waiting room. If she's already waiting at the door when the doctor's ready, she reasons, it could easily cut thirty seconds to a minute off the time she's forced to spend here.

As she reaches the refined cherry door, it opens and a familiar young girl emerges into the waiting room. Emma barely recognizes the younger girl, and not just because her long, straight, dark blond hair is hanging down and partially obscuring her face. Her long denim skirt and the oversized flannel shirt that she hides her bandage-wrapped hands in are incredibly different from the school uniform she's used to seeing the younger girl in. "Oh… h-hi, Emma."

"Hello, Paige. I would say I'm surprised to see you here, but… yes." A wave of pain washes over Emma as she looks at the twelve-year-old transmorph; the look in Paige's amber-colored eyes as they meet Emma's pale blue makes telepathy wholly unnecessary in figuring out why the preteen girl was there. "I'm sorry, Paige. I… I wish I'd been able to save Samuel. We… I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Emma. Sammy's wit God now." Paige's bandaged hands find Emma's, squeezing them tightly and a small smile forms on her face as she looks up at Emma. The motion opens up tiny breaks in the fragile skin of Paige's face; knowing that Paige would risk that just for her makes the attempt at comfort even more meaningful to Emma. More tears open as the smile morphs into a frown. "Ma dun want me to go back to Xavier's. She thinks it's too dangerous."

"She's right, Paige. It is dangerous. There are people who want us dead because of how we were born, and they know exactly where to find you when you're there," Emma replies after a moment of thought.

A small flash of hurt and anger washes over Paige's cracked and freckled face, her hands gripping Emma's tighter. Then a look of determination set in, her jaw and lips pushing forward in an attempt to look tough. "No! That's not what Sammy would want, or Jean… oh. I'm so sorry…" Looking shocked at what she'd said, Paige tries futilely to pull her hands from Emma's.

An uncomfortable moment of silence passes, before Emma nods slightly. "You're right. They wouldn't. They'd want us to be strong." A soft smile breaks Emma's lips. A look of triumph and happiness washes over Paige's face and before Emma can react, the smaller blonde wraps her arms around her in a tight hug. Hesitantly, Emma hugs Paige back, the tiny girl's waif-like body feeling solid and unusually hard. Breaking the hug and looking down at Paige, Emma can see pieces of the young girl's flesh falling away, exposing what looked just like her own diamond form. Smiling, she places a small kiss on the smaller blonde's forehead. "Careful, Miss Guthrie. It looks like I'm rubbing off on you."

With a surprised squeak, Paige pulls her small pocket mirror from the breast pocket of her red flannel shirt. Examining her face with it, she grins and gives Emma another, much quicker hug. Skipping to the door, Paige waves to Emma before leaving the doctor's office in search of her mother.

"It seems I have competition for role of therapist," Dr Kapatī's melodic alto comes from behind Emma.

"Yes, well, considering where you graduated from, Doctor? I'm sure I would do a much better job at it," Emma cooly retorts as she walks past the tall Indian woman, entering her office. "I'd likely be better at your job than you if I'd interned under Robert Spitzer."

Dr. Kapatī emits an odd, strangled little noise halfway between a gasp and a chuckle at that. "You know who Dr. Spitzer is?"

Seating herself on the supple leather couch without invitation, Emma crosses her legs and raises an eyebrow as she watches Dr. Kapatī close the door. "I'm a teenage lesbian being forced to spend time with a psychologist. I decided to do a bit of research beforehand." Peering at the young blonde over her glasses, the older woman seats herself in a wingback chair that matches the couch. Adjusting her own glasses, Emma's pale blue eyes lock on the dark eyes of the therapist, "So… now what? And I should probably warn you that if the phrase 'conversion therapy' passes your lips? When I leave this office, you'll be under the impression that you're the star of a Bollywood film. Complete with the urge to break into song at important moments in your life."

"That will be… quite unnecessary, Miss Frost. No, I'm here to help you work through your grief. Seeing as how I lack your gifts, I believe that will require us to engage in conversation." The awkward attempt at humor disarms the young blonde a little as she settles in across from Dr. Kapatī, the woman's dark eyes watching her with great intensity and curiosity. "Why don't you start at the beginning? Tell me how you met Miss Grey."

Breaking eye contact, Emma finds herself fidgeting with the hem of her dress. "O-okay…"

* * *

_August 23, 2008  
The Xavier School for the Gifted - Salem Center, New York  
11:47AM_

* * *

Staring out the window, Emma watches the trees pass as the limousine winds its way down the two-lane road to the Xavier School. With a sigh, she turns to her father, "So, tell me again why I'm being banished to Mutant High?"

"Emma, we've been through this already. You're not being banished. This is for your best interests." Winston places his large hand on his daughter's, staring over her shoulder at the large mansion growing closer through the windshield of the limo. Eventually, he turns his attention back to the frustrated girl sitting across from him. "You need to be with people who can help you with your abilities."

"But Dad… why don't Adrienne or Christian have to go to Mutant High? They're mutants too." Emma breaks out her best doe eyes, a weapon against her father she'd mastered long ago as a means of getting her way. Her father only lets out an exasperated sigh, though, and Emma pouts as her attempts at cuteness hit a wall.

The car rolls through the gates and onto the paver stone driveway of the mansion, and then comes to a stop in front of the main doors of the school. "Princess… they're older. Adrienne and Christian are in their last years at Middlesex." There is a long pause as Winston fights and loses the battle to keep a small grin from creeping onto his face. "They also didn't make their principal sexually attracted to goldfish."

Crossing her arms with an indignant pout, Emma's expression only makes her father's grin grow into a large smile. The young blonde responds with a wrinkle of her nose and poking out her tongue. "She said you and Mr. Stark were using science to replace her God, and refused to take it back. It was an accident!"

"Exactly, Emma. You need someone to help you hone your powers. You are the future, and you know as well as I do that you need this." The door of the limo opens, the driver standing out of the way so they can exit the car. Reaching out, Winston cups Emma's cheek as he looks her in the eye. "And you need to meet more people your age. People like you. You need to be with your peers, Emma, instead of rushing to grow up."

Emma sighs before looking down at her hands, her fingers compulsively brushing and straightening her dark grey slacks. She nibbles on her bottom lip for a moment, mulling over what her father just said. Knowing deep inside that he is right, she looks up at him, her pale blue eyes meeting his. "Okay Dad… I'll try."

"Good girl. Now, we have an appointment with a 'Professor Xavier'. Hmm. Good to know the staff here is well-qualified." Leaning in, Winston plants a soft kiss on her forehead before climbing out of the car, Emma following close behind.

A tall, dark-haired young man a few years older than her brother waits for them near the front door. Wearing a white button down shirt and dark pants, the young man watches them exit the car impatiently through his red-lensed glasses. "The Professor is waiting." Without another word, the rude man spins on his heel and marches swiftly into the building. Following him into the school, Emma curses herself for wearing her Christian Louboutins that day as she scurries after her father and guide. Cute as they may be, they are definitely not made for rapid movement.

After a few minutes, the group arrives at the open door of the office of the school's founder and headmaster, Charles Xavier. "Please, please, come in," the warm deep voice of the school's administrator invites. An older gentleman who appears to be close in age to Emma's grandfather's age sits at the desk. Her father reaches across it, shaking his hand and then Emma follows suit. "I do hope your drive was uneventful."

"Thank you, Charles, the ride was lovely," Emma's father responds warmly. "I'd like to formally introduce you to my daughter Emma."

"A pleasure to meet you, Emma," the older man replies with a warm smile.

"I'm sure." Emma returns the smile with a sarcastic smile of her own.

"Emma…" sighs Winston.

Her father turns to Xavier to offer an apology for her behavior, only to receive a smile and a wave of the older man's hand. "It's all right, Winston, no harm was done," Charles reassures. Gesturing to the young man standing behind Emma, whose eyes have been burrowing into her back since they entered the office, Charles offers an introduction. "This is my aide, Scott. Perhaps you would enjoy receiving a tour of the grounds from him? Your father and I have some delightfully boring paperwork to deal with."

"I think I'd rather have my shoe collection burned than deal with any more paperwork," the young blonde concedes. Not that she's much more thrilled with the idea of spending time with the rather dour young man… but it edged out paperwork. Barely. Shaking the headmaster's hand again and offering a smile to her father, she turns on her heel and strides out of the room, "Come, Jeeves. Show me the lay of the land." There's a momentary silence and then Emma smirks at the sound of heavier footsteps behind her. Probably had to get permission from Xavier, she muses. Probably has to get permission to use the bathroom. He seems like the sort.

Making their way into the library, the pair are dwarfed by massive shelves and desks. Perhaps there's at least one thing to look forward to here at Xavier's, she concedes. Much to Emma's disgust, Scott proves to be the scintillating conversationalist she suspected he was and they stand there in silence for close to a minute before moving on. As they reach the base of a giant staircase, Emma's guide finally puts forth a tidbit of information. "This is the central staircase-"

"Thank you, Mr. Door Stop. I never would have guessed that, what with it being a staircase located in the center of the building and all."

"-which leads to the girls' dorms and the female teachers' apartments. The dorms are assigned by ascending age, with the younger students on the lower levels and the older students higher up."

"Just out of curiosity, what's the policy on having another person in our room unsupervised?" Emma manages to get that one out with an angelic look on her face, waiting until Scott opens his mouth to reply before going in for the kill. "Wait, I'm asking the wrong person, aren't I? I doubt you'd have had a reason to know in your time here." Grinning in self-satisfaction, Emma raises one hand as her eyes flare blue, cutting off what would undoubtedly have been a witty… oh, she couldn't even think that with a straight face. "Yeah, no. Hold that thought."

Leaving her guide frozen in place, Emma opts to go it alone, wandering through the hallways of the school. Voices catch her attention; turning her head, she reaches out with her powers and finds a gathering of minds just outside the building. Her heels clacking on the large marble tiles as she makes her way to the French doors at the end of the hallway. Peeking out through the large panes of glass, she spies a handful of people who look closer to her age. Definitely something worth investigating, she decides.

Opening the doors, Emma wanders out into the bright noontime sun. A small hiss escapes her lips and she curses mentally, wishing she hadn't left her sunglasses behind in the car. As her eyes adjust, she gets a better look at the group: five people around her own age gathered in a semicircle around three older teens. The leftmost of the older teens is a tall, almost feminine young man, his long blonde hair tied back into a plait at the nape of his neck and massive white wings emerging from his broad back. Beside him sits another older boy, his skin either gold or a substance that resembles it rather closely. Smirking, the tiny blonde fights the urge to shift into her organic diamond form just to show off. The final member of the older trio and only girl is a tall, freckled redhead whose long mane is braided down her back, the tip falling to just above her shorts' waistband.

Emma feels her face growing hot as she stares at the girl and does her best to shift her attention to what the beautiful girl is holding in an attempt to distract herself. _'Is that a guitar? No, the shape is different. More folksy. Maybe a banjo?'_

"No, tis a bozouki," the older girl responds, with a melodic Irish brogue. "Tis a traditional Irish guitar."

"O-oh! Are you a telepath too?" Emma stammers out, her face growing even hotter out of embarrassment.

"No, hon, ye were projectin'. E'eryone out here heard ye."

Emma draws herself stiffly to attention, her ears burning as she tries to figure out a way to escape this horrid faux pas. Her father was right. She needed to be here. And within minutes of arrival, she'd proven exactly why. She jumps a little as she feels a hand gently taking hers. One of the students her age has risen from the semi-circle, approaching her and taking her hand. Emma's heart skips a beat and the entirety of her world becomes the girl in possession of her hand. Pale skin causes her freckles to stand out and her face is framed by a mass tangle of fiery red hair, wild and unkept. Large, clear, bright green eyes stare back at Emma, the smile on her rosy lips accompanied in her eyes.

She's, in a word… "…beautiful." Emma feels her chest tighten as she realizes she's uttered the word aloud. The girl in front of her flushes brightly and from the look the brunette she'd been sitting beside shoots Emma, the others had heard it as well. The whispers from the crowd turn the possibility into certainty and Emma's heart sinks. Her mind races as she looks away, trying to think of a way to escape the situation with what remains of her tattered dignity intact. "I'm sorry. I… I'm sorry."

Trying to pull away, Emma notices that she's anchored in place by the hand still holding her. The young ginger continues to stare at her, a pleading look on her face. "No, really, it's okay. Please, sit with us."

Frowning at the butterflies swarming her stomach, the petite blonde lets out a sigh and allows the redhead to lead her back over to the circle. Without relinquishing her grip on Emma's hand, the pretty girl forces the ornately tattooed Hawaiian girl sitting next to her to scoot to the left. Causing a chain reaction, the Hispanic boy on the end slides over to the end of the cement bench. Seating herself daintily, Emma looks to her right, taking in the others her age.

Immediately to her right sits a chalky-skinned girl with pitch black hair and a matching spot surrounding her left eye. A grin passes over the girl's blackened lips as she winks one bright blue eye at Emma. Beside her sit a boy and girl who Emma is relatively certain are fraternal twins. They both have black hair, his short and hers curly and straight. Their matching blue eyes gaze at her, the boy's with indifference and the girl's with trepidation as she clings to the abnormally pale girl. What really catches Emma's attention is their ears: both twins' ears come to a point, like an elf's.

"Maybe introductions are in order?" the winged boy suggests. Emma furrows her brow as his face tickles at her brain, feeling that she should know him. He gestures first to the literal golden boy to his left and then to the elegant Irish girl on the end, who offers a wave as she sets her bozouki down beside her. "This is Joshua, and the fiery Celtic maid beside him is Teresa."

"Oh my God… now I remember you. You're Warren Worthington!" Emma blurts out, and immediately all sixteen eyes fall upon her. Why was she feeling so… excitable? Then it dawns on her that her new acquaintance still has possession of her left hand. Her heart beginning its hummingbird impression again, but she still can't bring herself to try and free her hand. Blushing furiously, Emma realizes it's time to inspect her shoes. "Sorry."

"Heh, it's okay. I was wondering if you'd remember me. I only dated Adrienne for a couple weeks. It is a pleasant surprise to see you here at Xavier's." Gesturing to the twins to Emma's right, Warren continued with introductions, "I would like to introduce Jean-Paul Beaubier and his twin sister Jeanne-Marie."

"Bonjour," Jean-Paul offers with a curt nod. His sister offers only a squeak as she tries unsuccessfully to hide behind him.

Warren shakes his head at their antics while the others giggle at their friend's response to meeting a new person, and then he moves on to the next member of the group. "Our lovely gothic princess, Neena Thurman."

"Yo, you can call me Domino… or Petey. Everyone does." The pasty girl offers with a sly grin.

"This is Julio Richter," Warren introduces the young Hispanic boy on Emma's far left.

"Um, hi." Smiling shyly, Julio waves to Emma as Warren reaches over and ruffles the boy's hair."

"And beside him is Alani Ryan-"

"Aloha!" Alani greets Emma with a broad smile.

"-and your new friend, Jean Grey."

As Warren draws her attention to the last member of their group, Emma's heart starts to race again. Her eyes lock onto the beautiful green orbs staring at her. She opens her mouth and then closes it as both the words and moisture disappear. Furrowing her brow and mentally berating herself, Emma finally fights out the words. "Hi… I'm Emma Frost."

* * *

_May 18, 2009  
St Andrew's Cemetery - Annandale-on-Hudson, New York  
9:15AM_

* * *

"Hello, Padre. Sorry it took so long for us to get here. The government's been using our detectives to hunt down those guys who shot up the mutie school down in Salem Center," the sheriff's deputy lets out as he exits his car. Behind him, a dark blue New York State Police car rolls to a stop. "Good, Joe's here too."

The old caretaker of the cemetery looks up at the loud deputy's arrival, rising to his feet with a soft grunt and wiping the sweat from his now red face. Walking over to the officers, Father Wells offers his hand first to the deputy and then to the trooper, "Hello, Bill. Joe. How's Emily feeling?"

"Heh, ready to pop. She's hoping to have you over so you can bless the baby," responds the young state trooper as he shakes the priest's hand. Stepping out from behind his car door, and closing it gently, Joe gestures towards the graves, "So, what did you need us to look at, Father?"

"We've had some vandalism…" A deep frown scores the priest's face. The three men walk to a large swath of charred dirt, the man of the cloth makes a sweeping gesture to the blackened ground. "Someone burnt this patch; it's the grave a local girl."

"Jeezus!" exclaims the deputy, squatting in front of the tombstone, the warm brown marble now blackened and cracked deeply. His palm wiping away the soot, he reads the words engraved on the stone, "'Jean Debra Grey. Her love is eternal'. Holy shit, this is that mutie girl that got killed, isn't it?"

"Damn, Bill… have a heart. She was just a kid. From what I hear, she was a damn hero that day. Captain America himself spoke at her funeral." The trooper's voice is unable to disguise his disgust with his fellow officer. "What if Bobby turned out to be a mutant?"

"I'd disown him if he was a mutie. They're friggin' freaks, Joe. Any good American can see that." The deputy spits on the ground in front of the headstone before standing up, turning to face the state trooper and the priest. "But, I know my boy isn't a freak, because I'm not a freak and neither is Madeline."

"Ye…yes, Bill, she was a mutant. She died at the shooting at the Xavier School," Father Wells responds, unable to hide the shock in his voice. His frown deepens as he turns away from the grave marker, looking to the far friendlier state trooper. "I'm worried that the people who attacked the school did this. Or their supporters. The sort we don't want in this community…"

"I understand. Bill, I think I can handle this. Why don't you take off?" the trooper offers. Waiting until the deputy is sufficiently far away, Joe sighs before using the toe of his boot to wipe the spittle away. Turning back to the priest, he frowns. "You said the girl is a local? Do you have the names of her parents handy? I'd like to tell them what's going on, face-to-face. Set them at ease. Then… I don't think Red Hook or Tivoli has anyone qualified to investigate this. I'll put a call in and get some guys from Kingston over here to start checking things out. We'll find out who did this, Padre."


	5. Pieces Parts

Lexi's Note: Sorry about the lateness of this chapter. Between falling behind due to the week without power, and now I have the flu, I'm getting this out as best I can.

* * *

_May 18, 2009  
The Frost Summer Home - East Hampton, NY  
8:12PM_

* * *

Tiredly Emma goes through the motions of changing into her pajamas, leaving her clothes of the day lay on the floor to deal with at some later point. She lets out a deep sigh, feeling completely spent in body, mind, and soul after her ninety-minute session with Dr. Kapatī. Smiling faintly at the revisited memories of her more awkward days, the petite blonde lets herself fall backwards onto the large leather sofa. Landing on something hard, she squeaks and squirms a bit, digging her phone out of the pocket of her sapphire blue pjs. Setting the phone on the coffee table, she reaches for the large remote control for the family entertainment center. A few presses of the LCD screen later, the large television flares to life and Emma frowns. _'Oh joy. _The Kardashians_. Can tell Mother and her limpet were here,'_ Emma thinks to herself as she begins to randomly surf from channel to channel.

Half an hour of aimless surfing later, Emma had settled onto one of the numerous Sirius XM channels carried by DirecTV and tossed the remote down beside her on the couch. Leaning back, she taps her fingers against the cushions as she lets her mind drift, watching random facts display on the screen as she listens to the music playing through the speakers scattered around the room. A loud growl from her stomach makes Emma blush faintly and reminds her that her last meal was a light lunch just before therapy. Pulling herself up from the sofa, the young blonde wanders into the large open kitchen. Rummaging though the cupboards, her eyes fall on her brother's stash of his maddeningly addictive cups of instant ramen soup. With a smirk she nabs one; sitting it on the island, she grabs the stainless steel tea kettle from the stove top. Turning on the faucet, she fills the tea kettle a bit and turns back to the stovetop on the center island.

Turning the knob slightly, the familiar hiss and clicks sound just before the blue flames erupt from the stove. Setting the water on the burner, Emma wanders over to the refrigerator and grabs a diet soda before returning to the breakfast bar that frames one side of the island. Twisting the plastic cap off her drink, she eyes it before taking a sip and smiling. _'Another fine habit you've picked up, Miss Frost. Jean would be proud.'_ With a soft chuckle, the young mutant twists the cap back on and places the bottle on the counter in front of her. Sitting on the barstool with her chin in her hands, Emma watches the flames flicker under the tea kettle, thinking over the day's session. The water slowly comes to a boil and steam whistles as it escapes the spout, softly at first and then building to a crescendo. Slipping out of her seat, she walks around the island, turning off the burner and pouring the boiling water into her cup.

After stirring for a bit as she waits impatiently for it to cool, Emma is finally rewarded with her ramen soup. Slurping hungrily, she devours the entire cup in under two minutes, managing to burn her tongue twice. After finishing the broth, she lets out a content sigh. Tossing the empty cup into the trash can and the fork into dishwasher, she retrieves her soda and makes her way back to the family room. Just as she's nestling back into the plush leather sofa, her phone erupts with the refrain from Madonna's 'Lucky Star'. Not even needing to check the caller ID, Emma lifts her phone and accepts the call. "Hello, Neena. What's up?"

"Emma! Are you near a TV?" the excited voice from the other end asks excitedly.

"Yeah, I'm at-"

"Quick! Put it on… well, anything with the news! You've gotta see this!"

Sighing loudly, Emma punches up the News Mix, eyeing the different options. Fox's reporting as a whole is vile, Emma muses; NBC's stations, on the other hand, tend to be more positive but with a liberal bent that sometimes gets in the way of delivering the facts. WCBS's Kristine Johnson, who anchors their 5PM and 11PM programming, is rather easy on the eyes, but the station's 6PM anchor is considerably less so and Emma has no idea who they'll have on hand at this odd time of night.

Finally, she selects the safe, neutral option and the television switches channels, displaying a tall, thin gentleman Emma immediately recognizes as her father's college friend, Anderson Cooper. There's a look of excitement and energy on his face as his eyes flick back and forth between the camera and a laptop set up next to him on the desk. "…and so to recap, this is breaking news out of New York City. A joint task force comprised of members of the NYPD, FBI, and Department of Homeland Security - led by Captain America of the Avengers - have stormed a warehouse on Manhattan's Lower East Side. This warehouse is the alleged headquarters of the anti-mutant organization known as 'Humanity First'. According to our sources, the group - also known as the 'Purifiers' - is currently under investigation for possible involvement in the Mutant Massacre that was perpetuated in Westchester just eleven days ago. This might be the first raid out of many, according to these same sources, who have indicated that the group may have ties to 'Eternal Purity Ministries' and their leader, Reverend William Stryker."

Emma's stomach tightens, the hurt she's been carrying becoming a cold hate. Her vision focussing almost painfully on the TV as it becomes the only thing in the room, the voice coming from it the only sound.

"We've had a camera crew setting up nearby and…" The snow-haired gentleman trails off as he looks to someone off-camera, nodding at them before turning his attention back to his audience. "Let's go to Trish Tilby, coming to us live from the scene. Trish?"

"Thank you, Anderson. Right now, we're stationed just outside the police barricade," the young brunette says excitedly, the flashing lights on the law enforcement vehicles strobing red and blue behind her. "Captain America took command and led the multi-agency task force into the building just moments ago. Now we're waiting-" Trish's report is interrupted by loud bursts of gunfire coming from the building behind her, the view wobbling wildly as the cameraman dives for cover, machine gun fire echoing through the night air. "Oh… oh no. Anderson, I don't know if you can hear it, but a gunfight has broken out!"

"Are you okay, Trish? Has anyone been hit?"

"N-no… we're all fine," Trisha responds excitedly. "It sounds like the raid has met some kind of resistance…"

The cameraman pans back and forth in hopes of catching any action he can, bright bursts of muzzle flash illuminating the darkened windows. Emma sits silently on the edge of the couch cushion, staring at the screen as her heart pounds in her chest. Deep inside, a dark part of her wishes she could be there with them, exacting righteous revenge for those who were hurt in the attack… for those who were killed…

For Jean…

"Oh! Anderson, something's happening! The officers and agents are leaving the building!" The camera whips down to show the armed peacekeepers retreating from the building, firing back into the darkness. Some work in pairs to drag wounded counterparts to safety as they lay down suppressing fire, others limping but still moving under their own power. Captain America is the last man out, gesturing with one arm for everyone to back up as the other holds his iconic shield in place, blocking the incoming gunfire. "It looks like something's gone horribly wrong with the raid. We can't see what's going on, and Captain America seems to be say-"

Without warning, the building explodes violently. A soft hiss escapes Emma's lips as she's nearly blinded by the bright flash of light, instinctively shifting into her diamond form to protect herself from the perceived danger. Silence descends; she's sure she can hear Neena on the other end of the call but she only cares about what's on the television screen. As the camera finally compensates for the brilliant flames now lighting up the night, the image stabilizes and focuses on Trish Tilby, her dark hair singed and blood pouring from a gash in her scalp. "Oh… oh God… oh God, Anderson. They blew themselves up…"

Abruptly the feed ends, cutting back to the now agitated Cooper, his mouth working for a moment before he can put words to thought, "It… it appears that in a final act of defiance, the members of this… group… detonated an explosive device. We're not sure on the injuries or casualties at this point in time, but we'll get the information to you all as soon as it becomes available to us."

"Emma!" Neena shouts, her tinny voice projecting upward from where the phone rests on Emma's thigh.

Raising the phone to her ear again, Emma shifts back into her flesh and blood form before clearing her throat. "…I'm here."

"What the hell? They blew themselves up! Oh my God!"

"Good."

* * *

She finds herself standing in an empty room; the walls, floor, and ceiling all a painfully bright white. Despite the fact that she recognizes this place, something deep inside Emma's mind is screaming at her, trying to tell her that she shouldn't be here. Her eyes roam the room, looking for a way out, only to fall on a simple white throne against one wall. She stares at the grand seat, swearing it wasn't there a moment ago. The blonde walks towards it slowly; while her brain is telling her not to, her heart is telling her that she needs to.

The throne fills her vision as she stands before it. This close to it, her eyes start to pick out all the details: intricate patterns carved into the otherwise smooth and colorless material. Her hand reaches out with a mind of its own, hesitating for a moment before tracing her fingers over the swirls and patterns. Her eyes drift up to the backrest of the throne, on which a grand, stylized bird is carved. Her hand drifts up and she touches it; Emma can feel its warmth and a soft, pulsing throb like a heartbeat. Something moves in the corner of her eye; turning, she instinctively raises her psychic armor.

A feather.

Walking over to it, Emma peers down at it. A perfect golden red feather; after a brief moment, she realizes that it's on fire. Staring at it, she watches the fire burn without consuming the feather. Stooping down, she reaches out to touch it. Her fingers test the flame, but all she can feel is a strangely comforting warmth emanating from the burning plume. Gingerly she picks it up, terrified that she might accidentally break it.

Standing and looking at the feather in her hand, a burst of cold hits her from behind. Turning, Emma finds a black form… no, not black. A blackness beyond black, she thought, the utter absence of anything. With a sound that pierces the very core of her being, the Nothingness begins to spread across the floor, like a horrid liquid freed from its glass. Taking a step backward, Emma realizes that her psychic armor is cracking and breaking apart. She tries desperately but finds herself unable to escape from the psychic plane, as if the Nothingness is sucking her in like everything else around it.

Suddenly the comforting warmth of the feather in her fingers becomes a painful heat. Before she can drop it, Emma gasps as it begins to burn away, turning into a bright warm light. Her eyes bounce back and forth between the void creeping towards her and the feather, and then she notices that her aura has shifted from its usual icy blue-white to a bright, fiery gold. Idly she notices that the light of the feather is penetrating into her hand, highlighting where her veins would be in her physical body. She watches in stunned fear as the veins in her arms and legs also explode into brilliant light, rapidly moving toward her core. Her mind races as the bright light reaches her heart, the Nothingness picking that exact moment to brush against her foot.

The pain is unbearable.

All she can do is scream.

As she feels her psyche being ripped apart, Emma swears she hears the flapping of mighty wings.

And then darkness falls.

* * *

_May 19, 2009  
The Frost Summer Home - East Hampton, NY  
10:30AM_

* * *

With a gasp, Emma bolts upright in bed. Panting and soaked with sweat, she looks about the room wildly, her mind casting out as she searches for anything in the room with her. With the aid of her powers, she eventually confirms that she's safe and alone in her room and she switches to taking deep breaths as she tries to slow her hammering heart. Out of the corner of her eye she sees someone rushing into her room but it takes her a moment to process that and slowly turn her head toward them, busy trying to set her mind right.

"Emma! Are you okay? Come on, Munchkin, answer me."

Finally her eyes focus on a familiar face and Emma reaches up to touch it, wanting to make sure he's real. "Christian?"

"Yeah, it's me. What happened? Your reached out and hit me clear across the house. Probably every other psi-talent in the Tri-State area, too."

Looking down at her hand with a frown, Emma's mind drifts back to the burning feather, the throne, and the nothingness of her dreams, before returning to her brother's kind eyes. The emotions she'd thought well buried in apathy wash back over her: fear, agony, hate, love, all slam into her like a tidal wave. Her face contorts as her anguish releases in the form of tears, her heart still breaking, her anger screaming for revenge, her fear of being alone crushing her heart… the combination of it all is just too much to bear. Her arms fall to her sides as she sits in her bed, sobbing uncontrollably, only peripherally aware of Christian's arms wrapping around her and pulling her close. Burying her face into his chest, she just cries, wishing she could just stop feeling.

A short time later her sobbing eventually trails off, leaving the behind sniffles and the occasional hiccup. Christian brushes his little sister's pale blonde hair back out of the way, a look of compassion and sympathy on his face. Emma takes a deep, shuddering breath and then lets it out before giving him a weak smile. Returning the smile, Christian pats his sister on the top of her head. "C'mon, Munchkin. Let's get some breakfast in you and then you can shower. After that… who knows. Maybe we can go sailing with Warren, or head into the city if you're up for it?"

"I haven't seen Warren in forever." Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, Emma stretches before rising to her feet and nodding decisively. "Yeah, I think I'd like that." Trying to mirror Christian's widened smile as best she can, Emma follows him out of her bedroom.


	6. Questions, Not Answers

Lexi's Note: I know it seems like the story is going 100 directions at once, but I swear, there will be resolutions and most of the questions will be answered.

* * *

_May 19, 2009  
The Frost Summer Home - East Hampton, NY  
11:04AM_

* * *

Sitting in the breakfast nook as she fusses with her scrambled eggs, Emma listens to her brother talking to their friend Warren on the telephone. Hopefully going out sailing with Warren will let her take her mind off of recent events, at least for a little while. "Yeah, Warren. Yup. We'll meet you there." Christian smiles as leans against the kitchen island. "Mmhmm… I'll call when we get there. You too. Toodles." Ending the call, he looks over at his little sister. "Okay, everything's set. Warren's prepping the boat. Are you going to shower before we go?"

"Hmm? Oh… yeah." For the first time since waking up, Emma realizes how grungy she is. Her camisole sticks to her skin, and the layer of dried sweat caking her body just makes her feel… disgusting. She shivers as she remembers the Void and the immense pain it caused before shaking her head and chiding herself; it was only a dream. After shoveling the last few bites of her eggs into her mouth, she takes her plate to the kitchen and puts it into the dishwasher. "I'll be about 15 minutes."

Trotting up the steps, Emma heads into her room. Looking around, she grabs a clean bra and panties, along with a grey t-shirt with the words 'Xavier's Best' emblazoned on the chest and a dark blue pleated skirt. Heading into the bathroom, she disrobes and turns on the shower. As she brushes her teeth, she stares into the mirror and sighs at the dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. '_You've been crying far too much lately,'_ she thinks to herself. Rinsing her mouth, she drops her toothbrush beck into its holder, before climbing into the shower.

After showering, Emma dries herself and wraps a towel around herself. Returning to the sink, she finds herself again staring into the mirror as she brushes out her long, straight, pale blonde hair. Taking a deep breath, she opens a drawer in the sink cabinet, fishing out a pair of scissors. Reaching out with her powers, she brushes against her brother's mind, finding the words of an inane Lady Gaga song floating through his thoughts. _'Really Christian? Poker Face? Could you be any more the stereotype?'_

_'Blahblahblah. I'm proud to be one of her Little Monsters. What's up? You usually ask before digging around in my noggin.'_

_'I'll be a little longer, prettying myself up,'_ Emma thinks to her brother, staring down at the scissors in her hand.

_'Gotcha, Munchkin. Take your time.'_

Wiping the steam away from the mirror, Emma takes a deep breath before bringing the scissors up to her forehead. After a moment of hesitation, she slowly cuts away the front of her hair, creating blocked bangs a couple inches above her eyebrows. Ruffling her newly shorn bangs with her free hand, she turns her head a little, first left and then right. Bringing the scissors back up, she cuts into the hair framing her face, matching the angle of her jawline to just under each ear. Standing before the mirror, the petite blonde looks her hair over before smiling and nodding in satisfaction. That would do, at least until she could seek out professional help.

Placing the scissors back in the cabinet drawer, Emma goes about the rest of her morning ritual: clothes, a light bit of makeup, some perfume. Tossing her sleep clothes into the hamper, Emma heads out of the bathroom and wanders around her bedroom, gathering up her cell phone and purse. Taking another deep breath, Emma prepares herself for her brother's inevitable reaction. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she's not disappointed.

"Oh my God, your hair, it's precious!" Her overly excited big brother reaches out and brushes a bit of her side fringe back. "So, this is 'prettying yourself up', huh? I like it. It frames your face well."

"Yeah." Emma looks away for a moment before meeting he brother's warm brown eyes again. "I… I just needed to change something. I can't explain it."

"I wish I could say I understand Emma, but I truly don't know how you can be so strong." Sadness tinges Christian's voice, his soft hand cupping the left side of Emma's face. The tiny blonde's face contorts, as tears threaten to burst forth again, but this time they're successfully fought back. He crouches down in front of her, reversing their traditional height difference and leaving Emma staring down into his eyes as his thumb rubs over her pale cheek. "I know I can only imagine what you're going through, but you know Dad and I will always be here for you."

"Don't say always… there is no such thing." Straightening herself to her full five feet two inches, she turns away from her brother, signaling the end of their talk. Taking the cue, Christian stands and gestures to the door. With a curt nod, Emma leads the way out of the house, down the path to where her brother's sports car is sitting in the driveway. Emma slides gracefully into the front passenger seat as her brother hops into the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition and causing the British automobile's engine to roar to life.

As the car rolls down Further Lane towards Further Lane - a strange quirk of naming that has baffled Emma since she was old enough to read street signs - Christian lets down the car's top; a glance of annoyance from his passenger only elicits a chuckle. Making the left turn out onto Further Lane proper - as opposed to their little branch of it - he shifts into third gear and floors the accelerator, laughing louder at Emma's squeak of surprise. Well-kept grass and sand traps whip by as they pass through Maidstone Golf Club, her father's favorite escape when her mother actually deigns to accompany them to the house. Eventually they reach Montauk Highway and Christian settles into what Emma finds a reasonable speed. After watching the trees roll past for a few seconds, she breaks the silence. "So, have you decided what you're doing, now that you've graduated?"

* * *

_May 19, 2009  
St Andrew's Cemetery - Annandale-on-Hudson, New York  
12:15PM_

* * *

Watching as Father James Wells wrings his hands nervously, Charles Xavier does his best to project calming thoughts towards the man. He doesn't quite understand the man's anxiety; neither he nor Irene cut particularly imposing figures. One of them elderly, well-dressed, and in a wheelchair, the other in her early forties with a handicap made quite obvious by the dark sunglasses inside and red-tipped cane…

"Well, erm, well, Professor is it? Yes, Professor Xavier. I remember now, we met on that… rather unfortunate day. I woke up yesterday morning to do the daily weeding and the like. When I came to Miss Grey's grave, I saw that it'd been burnt. I called the sheriff's department first so they could come investigate; they had people here taking evidence last night and this morning. When they were done, they finally let me call the poor girl's parents so they could come and see for themselves."

"Yes, we received a call from Dr. Grey this morning. He had hoped that we would be able to find answers with our unique gifts," Charles Xavier affirms with his clear baritone voice. Leaning back in his wheelchair, the Professor's grey eyes lock on Father Wells's. He knows that if anyone enters the room, they'll see a pale blue glow emerging from his eyes and a matching bubble hovering above his forehead, but it's a risk he has to take. The glow subsides after a moment, and the priest's nervous twitching and hand wringing ceases as he seems to freeze in time.

_'Psychic intrusion, Charles? Rather unlike you.'_

_'I don't have time for being delicate, Irene. I had students murdered and now one of their graves has been desecrated,'_ Charles responds, his irritation bleeding into his tone of thought. Wheeling himself to the door, he can hear the faint clicking of her cane against the floor as his blind companion follows him out into the afternoon sun. _'He witnessed nothing. When he wakes, all he'll remember is us having tea, chatting for a bit, and then leaving.'_

_'What's with the sudden concern for your charges Charles? I didn't see you coming to my aid… or John Proudstar's after you threw us to the wolves.'_ Anger creeps into her mental voice as Irene follows her former leader to the cemetery. Moving through the graveyard in silence, they come to a stop in front of the charred and cracked headstone.

_'I have learned from my mistakes, Irene. I failed you and John, but I will not fail these children.'_ Charles clenches h_i_s jaw as his thoughts pass to his companion.

The dark-haired woman rests her hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up at her. _'I believe you Charles, just as she does. That's why our daughter is your student. It will take time, but I will forgive you.' _With that, Irene Adler kneels in the burnt earth before the young mutant's grave. Her slender fingers trace the name etched in the formerly brown marble. "Jean Debra Grey. Her love is eternal."

With an unseen nod, the elder educator places his hand on his former pupil's shoulder. Bright yellow swirls erupt around the blind woman's head and Charles's own aura flares to life as well as they link minds. Irene reaches out to brush her fingers over the headstone, using her powers to explore the timeline surrounding the grave. Sliding all the way back to the funeral, they watch the final moments together in silence. For a brief moment, Irene pauses the scene and centers their view on the face of the young blonde standing at the grave, a curious glow coming from her heart, before moving forward. Slowing as they reach the night of the desecration, Irene and Charles survey their surroundings, trying to spot the guilty party as they approach.

Without warning, a ball of flame flares into being just above the ground. The fire, burning in a perfect sphere, hovers only inches above the ground, instantly burning the grass to ash. The pair watch in awe as the fire burns without fuel, cracks slowly forming in the flaming sphere and leaking a near-blinding light from inside. Soon the sphere unfurls into great flaming wings, those wings attached to a feminine entity, her body glowing with a painful intensity. Her burning gold eyes focus on the grave at her feet; following the entity's line of sight, Irene and Charles watch the body of Jean Grey pass through the soil, as if a ghost. Her body rotates so her back is to the entity, and then it begins to float back towards it. After a few moments, Jean fuses into the glowing form of the entity.

After a moment of eerie silence, the entity turns her head to look at the pair watching her. Her eyes, like molten gold, lock onto Irene. **_"You do not belong here. You are not fit to see Our rebirth."_** With a terrifying screech from the entity, the two psychics are forced back into their bodies. The force of their exit is enough to cause blood to ooze from their noses, and several moments pass before they can completely recover.

"My God… what was that?" Charles is the first to find his voice. He looks over at Irene and then on to Henry, who'd bounded over from the car at some point. Taking a handkerchief from his breast pocket, he offers it to the still kneeling seer, who takes it with a nod. Wiping at his own nose with a tissue retrieved from his suit coat's inner pocket, he waves off the large feline mutant. "I'm fine, Henry. You may want to see to Miss Adler."

The mutant known as Beast helps Irene to her feet as she wipes away the blood from under her nose. Folding it neatly, she hands it to Henry when he offers. Composing herself, she turns to Xavier and offers a thoughtful hum before answering. "Death."

* * *

_May 19, 2009  
The Fire Island Ferry - Bay Shore, NY  
1:42 PM_

* * *

Standing at the dock, Emma watches her brother get their tickets for the Fire Island ferry. With her back to the bay, she closes her eyes, breathing in the cool air off the water. Opening her eyes, her heart stops for a moment as she spots a familiar face standing only a few feet away. Her mind races as her bright blue gaze locks onto the large emerald green eyes before her. A whisper, barely louder than an exhaled breath, escapes her lips. "…Oiseau?"

With a giggle, the young redhead runs off and it only takes the briefest of seconds for Emma to decide to give chase. Dodging through the people waiting for the ferry, Emma's eyes never lose sight of the wild, fiery mane trailing like a comet's tail behind her quarry. The redhead abruptly ducks into a secluded alley way, with Emma close on her heels. Rounding the corner, Emma skids to a halt before shifting into her diamond form as she finds herself staring into a face that isn't the one she's expecting.

Rather than Jean, a tall woman clad in a black leather bustier and matching pants stands before Emma. Her skin is a deep, saturated blue, and the eyes meeting Emma's are bright yellow. Her only remotely Jean-like feature is her vivid red hair, cut to a short bob, and then Emma notices the gleaming pistol being aimed at her and all other thoughts disappear. They stand there, frozen for a moment, before the older woman breaks the silence. "I'm not here for trouble, Miss Frost, and I apologize for using her face." Despite her words, Emma finds herself continuing to doubt the shifter's intentions… perhaps because of the gun pointed at her chest? "I was sent to give you two things: an item and a message. I only do this, because the one who told me to do this… I love her, and I would be devastated if I lost her."

Dropping out of her defensive posture, Emma hesitates a moment longer before shifting back to her flesh and blood form. With a subtle nod, Raven places her pistol back into its holster. Reaching into a small pouch, the older woman fishes out a small white leather box. Seeing the box, Emma's stomach knots and in an instant she lashes out at Mystique with her mind, only to run into hundreds of thoughts swirling together like a writhing ball of snakes. Nausea hits the young mutant as she drops to her knees with a hiss. "How… how did you get..?"

"I was given it by my wi… by the person who sent me to you." With a look of shock, Raven Darkhölme looks from the girl to the box and then back.

"I'm… I'm sorry, it just. It looks like what I left with Jean." Unable to look Raven in the eyes out of shame, Emma stares at the ground.

Crouching down and nudging the young blonde's chin up so their eyes meet. The cerulean woman almost looks… sympathetic? It confuses Emma. She knows who Raven is. Who she stands with these days. "Miss Frost… Emma. You loved her didn't you? With every bit of your being?" Biting her lip, Emma is only able to respond with a slight nod. "Then take this." Raven places the supple white box in Emma's hands, leaving her hand lightly on top of the box. "I'm to tell you 'She is coming. She needs you. She will die again if she doesn't have you, and without her, we are all lost.' I don't know what it means, but you have to remember those words. Irene's never wrong."

With another nod, Emma looks down at the box in her hands. Opening it, she sees a chess piece, a queen. It looks to be handcrafted from a solid piece of pure white marble. Looking up to ask Mystique the meaning, the question dies on her lips as she sees that she's alone. Climbing to her feet, she closes the box and tucks it into her purse as she begins making her way back to the dock and Christian.

* * *

_May 19, 2009  
St Andrew's Cemetery - Annandale-on-Hudson, New York  
2:12PM_

* * *

Waiting in the back of the car, Irene 'watches' as Charles is assisted into the seat next to her, nodding to the Greys as they give small waves. As the car pulls away, his attention turns to her. "Are you all right, Irene?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine. So, what did you tell her parents?"

"I told them that we saw two men ignite the grave and that those same men committed suicide during the raid on their headquarters, last night."

"Rather devious, Charles. Why not tell them the truth?"

"Tell them that some sort of entity consumed the body of their daughter during its 'rebirth'? I think not," the elder mutant expels with a tinge of disgust.

Snorting, Irene places her hands in her lap, her fingers rubbing against the soft silk of her slacks. Her mind drifts back to the vision she saw in the cemetery, analyzing it and comparing it to past visions. _'So… it begins.'_ She turns her head to face Charles. "So, what about your half of the bargain? Will you watch over my children?"

"Yes, Ororo has picked up Marie and Kurt. They're settling in at the school as we speak." Charles glances out the window for a moment, watching the trees pass by on their way back to Salem Center, before returning his attention to her. "Are you going to explain what's going on? What you're preparing for?"

"As always, Charles, I'm preparing for the future," the younger woman intones. She lets the silence linger uncomfortably, knowing the Professor won't try to pry it from her mind out of simple guilt. After a bit of time passes, she takes pity on him and begins laying out what she feels he needs to know. "When our mission failed at Krakoa and I was in a coma, I had a vision. A terrible vision. There is a darkness coming, and it is not like these cape-clad buffoons who want to conquer. This… creature… only wants death. Two girls are the key to our survival; without them, we are lost. Many will fall under to the forces of darkness, but we need those two girls if life on Earth hopes to survive. The girl you once knew as Jean Grey, she and Emma Frost… they are more powerful than you can hope to imagine. They are also inexorably linked; they're like swans in that they exist only for each other. I have set things in motion, in hopes of preparing us all for what is coming. You'll soon be contacted by someone working for me, she will give you all the information I have."

Taking this in, Charles and his companion ride back to the mansion in silence. As the car coasts to a stop in front of the school, Charles finally speaks again. "I will have Henry drive you home. I hope to see your agent soon." She responds with a nod, watching as the Professor's man-servant Scott helps him into his wheelchair before closing the car door.

The car rolls down the driveway before heading out the gate and onto the main road. After a short, quiet ride, the limousine pulls up in front of a small, unassuming house in a small hamlet. Helping his old friend out of the car, a smile radiates from the large blue mutant. "Looks like we're at your grand mansion, Irene," Henry purrs. He closes the door behind her and walks Irene up the path to the front of the house, her small hand dwarfed in his massive paw.

Stopping at the door, Irene leans forward and kisses the large feline mutant on his cheek. "Always the flatterer, Henry?" She smiles up at him. "It has been truly wonderful to spend time with you again."

"My pleasure, dear lady," responds Henry warmly. His tone shifts to a more serious note. "I… please forgive the Professor. He… he mourns every…"

"Shh, Henry. I have forgiven him. I believe John has as well, wherever his spirit may be. Now, drive safely and have a good evening." After a reassuring pat to his paw, Irene turns and enters her home. Resting with her back against the door, she waits for the sound of the car pulling away. Setting a serious look on her face, she deftly steps around the toys and clothes scattered around the floor, she internally hopes Charles can teach her children tidiness. Coming to a stop in her living room, she calls out to the shadows, "I know your master sent you. Come out."

A tall, black-robed form steps from the shadows. Walking up to the tall woman, the robed figure stands directly in front of her. Her mind reaches out, and in just a handful of seconds she has read its entire life. Shaking her head in pity, she sees the days of this man's glory: a decorated soldier until his powers manifested, pheromones that leeched the life from those around him. He had no choice but to turn to the Darkness and its promise of a cure. All he'd received in return for his loyalty was pain and conditioning.

Reaching out, she pushes the hood back, her fingers tracing lightly over his face to confirm what she's seen in her mind. His grey-white skin is patterned with ornamental scars, a predominant Omega covering most of his face. His eyes and mouth long since sewn closed, malnutrition and torture taking most of his once-blond hair. His hand coming up slowly; she knows what's in it and knows she has no chance of escape. With a mournful groan, the hooded man presses the red button.

* * *

In the rear-view mirror of the car, Henry watches his childhood friend's home erupt in a massive, fiery explosion.

"Oh my… no…"


	7. Future Imperfect

Lexi's Note: Real life kinda bit me in the ass, I apologize for the lateness. This is the second of the flashback chapters, I'll do my best to bracket them with "real time" so the flashbacks are less jarring.

* * *

_May 25, 2009  
The Office of Dr Asgari Kapatī - Manhattan, New York  
1:04PM_

* * *

Sitting on the large mahogany and leather sofa, Emma stares at the white marble chess piece in her hands. The sound of the large wooden door opening causes her to look up as Doctor Kapatī enters the room, clad in her usual dark-colored blouse and black pencil skirt with her long ebony hair pulled into a bun. A gentle smile forms on the lips of the Indian woman and then her dark eyes flit to the chess piece in Emma's hands. For the briefest of moments, Emma sees a flicker of something… dark… in that smile and then it's gone again.

"Hello, Miss Frost." Closing the door behind her, Asgari seats herself in her usual wingback chair, her dark eyes peering over the tops of her glasses at the young blonde sitting quietly on the couch. Emma glances back to the cool, sculpted marble in her hands before meeting her therapist's eyes once more. "I see you have made a bit of a change since the previous instance we shared."

Instinctively, Emma's left hand goes to her jaw where the fringe framing her face falls. Unable to keep eye contact, her gaze drops to where she grips the chess piece tightly in her right hand, as if it were a security blanket. "…yes. I felt I need something a bit more… this season."

Without missing a beat, as has become the norm at these little sessions of theirs, the older woman counters Emma's snark with a calculated verbal jab of her own. "Would you like to continue from our previous session? Perhaps the next time you interacted with Miss Grey?"

Flinching, Emma's gaze wanders away from her hand but she refuses to meet Kapatī's eyes. Instead, her attention is drawn to the small black cat resting on the massive mahogany desk near the office's window. Is it new, Emma wonders to herself? She's sure she would have noticed it there before. Then again, given the view of Midtown Manhattan outside the window… perhaps not. The small onyx cat is curled on the blotter on the desk, its chest rising and falling as it sleeps fitfully.

Shaking her head a little, Emma pulls herself from her reflecting, turning back to the woman sitting across from her. "Umm… well, it was the first day of classes…"

* * *

_September 1, 2008  
The Xavier School for the Gifted - Salem Center, New York_

* * *

Stepping out of the back of the family limousine, Emma blinks against the bright morning sun and pulls her sunglasses down off her forehead to cover her eyes. Around her, she can hear the whispers of the other students… and the thoughts they don't dare give voice to. Staring out through the silver lenses of her sunglasses at the teens and children who are eyeing her in return, Emma reaches up and flips her hair off her shoulder. She glances over at where the driver is holding her small overnight bag, casually reaching over to take it from the older gentleman before walking towards the crowd.

Stopping in the middle of the front quad of the school, the petite blonde glances at her watch. Remembering her schedule of classes, Emma realizes that she has about an hour before her first class, more than enough time to drop off her bag in her room. Glancing around at the other students who are just arriving, she smirks as they and some of their parents struggle with suitcases and chests. It makes her glad she'd had her things sent over a few days ago; she wouldn't dare ask the family's aging driver to do something like that nor would she lower herself to something so… pedestrian. Turning towards the main building where the girls' dorms are located, she takes one step and slams hard into someone else.

Instinctively shifting to her diamond form a scant moment before her butt hits the grass, Emma curses under her breath, knowing her brand new jumper now has a lovely stain on it. After checking herself over, her attention turns to the cause of her sudden change in altitude: a pale girl roughly her own age. It takes her a moment to realize why the other girl seems familiar, and then Emma's frown grows. She would have expected something like this from one of the commoners. Then again, maybe it's not who she thinks it is. After all, the last time she'd seen the girl's picture, her hair hadn't been… "…purple?"

They aren't the only thing that's purple - or rather violet; Emma does know her color wheel, after all. Violet eyes glare back at Emma as the girl gathers her books into a neat pile before hopping to her feet. A peculiar, butterfly like construct of violet light springs into being around the girl's head as a nimbus of same-colored energy appears around the books, and then they wobble a bit before rising up into the girl's arms. Huffing, the girl's British accent is prominent as she lambasts Emma. "Wot the hell's your damage? Watch where you're going!"

As she climbs back to her feet, Emma turns her attention from the violet-haired girl to the tall blond boy standing beside her. She has to look up at him but that hardly phases her; she's well aware that she's short for her age, for a girl, for a human in general. In comparison, the boy seems ridiculously tall, with the build of a star quarterback and an easy smile. Sighing, Emma looks back to the girl who knocked her down. Based on the company she keeps, the blonde is fairly certain who's in front of her but has no desire to come off as some sort of… fangirl. "So, is the large slab of meat here a friend? Your boyfriend?"

"Oh vom! No, Brian's my fraternal twin. Still don't get how the same ingredients can make that…" Betsy takes a step to the side, turning to gesture at her brother before waving a hand over her own body. "…and this, but if my parents can't explain it to me, I don't think I'll ever get it. Oh, by the by, I'm Elisabeth." The newly introduced Elisabeth shifts to hold her books with one arm and thrusts her free hand out in Emma's direction, clearly expecting the blonde to shake it. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she clears her throat nervously and wraps her arm back around her books. "So…"

"So you'd be Brian and Elisabeth Braddock, the middle and youngest children respectively of Sir and Lady Braddock. Minor royals out of London. Your mother inherited her position while your father married far above his station. They're both remarkably intelligent for members of the British peerage; I think my father's brought a few of their ideas to market here in America. Did I miss anything?" Emma cooly asks as she brushes the grass and dirt from the backside of her skirt before sighing. Attention shifting from Brian to Betsy, she transforms back into her flesh and blood form before reaching up to nudge her sunglasses back in to their proper position.

"Woah… y'think she's a telepath too, Betsy?" the tall blond boy exclaims to his twin. Emma stares Brian, her mind drifting, wondering what her sister found so fascinating about boys. Maybe it'll make more sense when she gets older? Because right now… nope.

"Yes… Brian, was it? I am in fact a telepath. Not that I need to be, what with Royal Hunting being a popular sport in the trashy tabloids that Mother reads. I could put two and two together easily enough," Emma smirks as she explains things to the twins, before deciding she's let them twist in the wind for long enough. "My name is-"

"Emma!" a familiar voice calls out from behind her.

The wind shifts and the familiar scent of Armani Black Code teases Emma's nose, guaranteeing who it is. "Hello, Warren," the young blonde replies as she turns to give her older friend a hug. "Adrienne sends her love."

"Yeah, I've seen the pictures of who she's climbing all over these days. She can keep that love to herself, thank you very much."

Chuckling, Emma turns back to Betsy and Brian. The look on the younger Braddock's face makes it clear that she's figured out who the mystery 'Emma' must be; knowing Warren and the mention of Adrienne probably helped. Speaking of Adrienne… the clueless look still on Brian's face makes Emma glad that her sister isn't around. 'She'd eat that poor boy alive.'

"God, first Warren and now the Emma Frost is joining us here at Mutant High?" the smaller Braddock asks with thinly veiled amusement. "Oh, how the mighty are falling."

Yes, because a royal who was shipped off to Middle of Nowhere, New York had any room to talk about downward mobility. Before Emma can tear into 'Betsy', though, Warren slides between them and offers one of his wide, easy smiles. "Calm down, girls, you've got all year to hiss and claw at each other. Orientation's in less than an hour, though, and I'm pretty sure we all need to unpack still. You two can tussle later. Brian, if you can spare a few minutes, Piotr needs your help moving one of his statues."

"Ooh! He made a new one?" the tall blond asks excitedly.

Emma watches as the two young blonds wander off together, before sighing and looking to her left. Raising a finely-shaped eyebrow at the Brit beside her, she waits a few seconds to see if she'll say anything before setting off towards the main building. After all, as Warren pointed out, she still needs to unpack. The pair walk together in silence for a few minutes, and then the violet-haired girl finally breaks it. "So… Emma. Sorry about the joke. It's just that you're kind of famous. It's weird seeing you here of all places."

"It's fine. I could say the same about you, though. Why aren't you at Hogwarts, or whatever you have for people like us over in England?" Emma quips.

"Har har. We're here… well, Brian's here because the Crown wants him to become the next Captain Britain. All the big names are either here or in New York City, so he can get better training on this side of the pond." Betsy's eyes are on her feet as they walk, and Emma can feel sadness radiating from her companion. They reach the door, which is being held open by a boy in his late teens. Being held open… by his tail.

Countless hours of etiquette training go out the window as Emma finds herself staring at the deep blue, velvet-like fur that covers his skin, before noticing he has yellow eyes and pointed ears that give him an elfin appearance. All they do is give her something other than the fur to stare at, though. Finally, she realizes that he's smiling at her and offers a hesitant smile of her own. "Guten morgen, mädchen. Betsy! New friend?"

Betsy looks back and forth between the blue-furred boy and Emma a few times before snorting indelicately. "Not quite, Kurt. And even if she was… I know you love your blondes, but she's a bit out of your league."

"Ach!" It's decidedly odd to watch Kurt bring both hands up to clutch at his chest without having to let the door go, Emma decides. Then again, she should probably get used to seeing the odd and unusual here at 'Mutant High', the blonde realizes. After all, she's going to be here for a while. "You wound me with your… your spurious accusations!"

"Word-a-Day calendar?"

"Word-a-Day screensaver. I found it on the laptop they gave me. It's just like the calendar, except without killing all those trees." Betsy and Kurt chuckle at that and then Kurt waves a tridactyl hand at them. "I'll catch up with you at orientation. Let Amanda know where I am if you see her?"

Nodding, Betsy returns the wave as they pass through the door he's holding. "Can do." The Brit settles back into her role as competent if quiet guide as they head towards the girls' dorms; looking around, Emma notices nothing has changed since her last visit. Good. It means she won't have to start from scratch figuring out where everything is. "So, where were we?"

"Why you're here."

"Ah, right. Well I'm a mutant too, obviously. And… I'm sure you heard about the accident with Jamie?" Elisabeth quietly asks, receiving a nod in reply from Emma as they make their way to the main staircase with the other girls. "We were all in the car together when… when Jamie attacked. At first it looked like Daddy and Brian were dead, but the attack brought out Brian's powers and he protected Daddy. Brian and Jamie fought. Then my own powers manifested…"

"And you stopped Jamie," Emma says solemnly. She'd watched the news reports with her father, and then read about the details on the Internet. Jamie Braddock, the eldest of the three Braddock children, had been the first to manifest powers. Soon after, his ability to warp reality had driven him insane, driving him to attack London and leading to the deaths of nearly a hundred people, including the previous Captain Britain. Brian had tried to stop his brother but it had been Betsy who'd actually managed to take him down… by destroying his mind.

"Yeah…" the taller, violet-haired girl whispers. Reaching the third floor landing, Emma and Betsy stop and step to the side, removing themselves from the flowing traffic of girls and professors. The young British mutant looks up at Emma. "So, they sent Brian here to help him fulfill his grand destiny. I'm here because they're scared of me."

"I'm sorry… I don't know what to say." For the first time in many years, Emma is honestly at a loss for words. No amount of sarcasm or cold bitterness - her normal reactions to uncomfortable situations - can make this better.

After a few moments, Betsy offers her a small smile. "It's okay. C'mon, what room are you in?"

"312?"

"Awesome! You're in with the rest of the Brain Bunch!" In a surprising move, Betsy takes Emma's hand in her own and guides her through the flow of students towards her room. As they weave in and out of the other girls, Emma's eyes catch sight of a girl leaning against the wall. The girl's skin is a pure alabaster, her short-cropped, pitch black hair is tousled in managed chaos. The black spot surrounding her left eye causes memories of her last visit to come crashing back.

"Hang… Betsy… stop! Wait!" Emma digs her heels in, fighting against the taller girl as she tries to stop. The violet-haired mutant finally complies, looking back at Emma as the blonde turns to gesture to the strange gothic girl… who is no longer there. "Whah? Never mind, sorry."

"You're so strange. C'mon, we're almost there." They soon reach a door marked '312' and Betsy offers a victorious smile as they come to a halt, waving her right arm dramatically. "Your quarters, my queen!"

Shaking her head, Emma can't help but smile at the girl's theatrics. Reaching out and touching the warm wooden door, she traces the name placard reading 'Frost, E.'. She sighs before nodding to Betsy, pushing down on the handle and opening the door into her room. Looking inside, she finds that her quarters are distinctly Victorian in style, albeit a bit nondescript. Her luggage has been placed neatly beside the single bed along the back wall, with a writing desk and wardrobe being the only other objects in the exceedingly bare room. "Well, this is rather bland, no?"

Betsy leans against the doorframe, offering a shrug. "Eh, you get used to it. Also, if you keep out of trouble, the staff will let you paint and decorate. After all, most of us are going to be here for a while. Anyway, I've gotta go unpack as well. I'll see you in orientation. I'm a second year, which means I'm still in the novice classes with you, so we'll be able to chat more today."

"Cool. It'll give me time to get my bearings. It was nice meeting you, Betsy." Emma tosses on one of her casual smiles as her new friend leaves for her room. Setting her overnight bag on her bed with a sigh, she spins in a graceful pirouette and flops on her bed beside her bag. '_At least the bed is soft'._

Laying on her bed, Emma glances at her watch. Still another half hour till she needs to make it to orientation. Closing her eyes and centering herself, she reaches out with her mind and lets it wash over her fellow students. Like a dolphin using sonar, her mind pings against each of her peers' and she instantly knows the size of the student body: four hundred and thirty-eight students. In them, she can sense excitement, mixed with a bit of fear and trepidation. Letting her consciousness linger on one mind in particular, she's drawn back into the physical world by the sound of music. Relatively loud music at that; not as bad as the students wandering the halls, but loud enough for her to hear.

Opening her eyes, she rises into a sitting position before sliding off the bed, listening to the quick, throbbing beat. Shifting to one side and then the other, she narrows it down to the room on her left. Leaving her room behind, she hangs a left and finds herself standing in front of Room 314. The door is decorated with a bright yellow sun, cut from construction paper and laden with a rainbow of glitter, the word 'Grey' written on it in puffy silver paint. A goofy, cartoon face smiles at her from over the name. It takes her a moment to realize why the name is familiar: it's that girl. The one who's burrowed into every waking thought for the past week and a half, that frustratingly beautiful girl. Emma knocks at the door, preparing to give her neighbor a right proper dressing down over the noise.

Another knock. Still no answer.

"Sigh… this is irritating." Reaching for the door handle, Emma finds no resistance as she pushes it down and opens the door. Peeking into the room, her heart skips a beat. 'No, really, it's okay. Please, sit with us.' That day crashes back into her mind. She'd done so well to push away the embarrassment of that day, and how her stomach twisted and turned when she thought of that redhead. '-and your new friend, Jean Grey.'

Standing in the doorway, Emma watches the wild mane of fiery hair trail through the air as the young girl dances. The bass line accentuates each twist, each hip rock, each dip. Jean's body moves in what seems to be a mix of urban dance and belly dancing, and Emma finds herself utterly unable to wrench her gaze away from the dancing form before her. Clad in a green and gold leotard, Jean flows with the music and Emma can't manage to keep herself from noticing every detail of the redhead's body. The tiny blonde feels her face flush; she knows she should leave but feels rooted in place, as if she is who Jean is performing for.

The song eventually comes to an end, as do Jean's movements, her breathing heavy as she catches her breath. Stepping forward to grab a towel from her bed, the redhead finally notices her audience. Emma braces herself, knowing deep inside that she's broken around a billion rules of etiquette. Instead of being screamed at - or worse, turned in to be reprimanded by the Professor - the glistening redhead flashes a bright smile. "Hi! I was hoping you'd be here!" Jean exhales with a heavy breath, dabbing at her freckle-splattered skin. Her bright green eyes lock onto Emma's blue, her smile genuine and wonderful.

After a few moments of silence, Emma looks away, her eyes dropping to the floor before bouncing up to the ceiling in an attempt to avoid looking at the girl, her hands fidgeting. She opens her mouth once, then twice, wondering if her words have disappeared to the same place the moisture in her mouth went. "Umm… yeah. I… sorry, I didn't mean to. Just, I heard the music and… sorry." Emma purses her lips at her sudden inability to form a normal sentence. Taking a deep breath and gathering herself, the young blonde lets her eyes drift down to settle on the redhead's face. "Yeah, I just wanted to say hi and stuff."

"Awesome!"

'_Dammit… why can't I think straight? Why can't I look at her without my chest feeling like it's going to explode?"_ Emma thinks to herself, pondering a way to exit this very uncomfortable situation. And possibly transfer to a school in Antarctica. As she goes to make her graceless exit, a voice not her own intrudes on her thoughts.

'_It's okay. I kinda fancy you too.'_

With a choked gasp, Emma's bright blue eyes go wide as the foreign voice in her head sinks in. Looking up at the girl sanding in front of her, Emma's mouth and mind work, and nothing comes out of either. "And I just made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry. I just… I'm new with my telepathy and, well, you're kinda projecting. And I'll shut up now." Turning, Jean gathers her folded jumper from her bed along with a another towel and a basket of shower supplies before moving to the door. She comes to a stop in front of Emma, leaving the shorter blonde staring at the girl's feet instead of the floor as they stand in uncomfortable silence. "Look, I'm sorry if I violated your mindspace and I know I'm too forward at times. I just thought… yeah. If you want to slap me now and we can be enemies for the rest of school, that's cool. But I need to shower, and we're going to both be late to orientation, and I don't need Mister Howlett making me do laps again," the taller ginger explains. Looking up, Emma finds a pair of large green eyes staring at her with a mix of compassion and trepidation, her face showing a hint of the stress that Emma realizes she's accidentally broadcasting.

Fidgeting and shifting on her feet, Emma's small hands grip the skirt of her jumper. The young telepath frowns, as her inability to rationally think this out turns the silence more and more awkward. She only met Jean a little over a week ago, yet the cheerful freckled girl has made at home in Emma's thoughts: her face, her smile, her smell, how her warm soft hand felt in Emma's. Emma knows that romances are supposed to be complex give and take, there's no such thing as fairytale 'love at first sight'. Yet this girl makes her feel unsure. This girl, who won't get out of her head… and the young blonde isn't all that sure she wants her to. Looking up at those emerald eyes, Emma's heart pounds in her ears and she feels light-headed, '_Dammit Emma, you can do this, you can talk to her'._ "Yes, I like you. I'm not sure why, because I'm quite sure I'm not supposed to like other girls."

"Ah. Well, my daddy told me that we can't help who we love, we can only love who we love. If you're not sure, maybe we can get a coffee later? Get to know each other?"

"…yeah, I think I'd like that."

* * *

From a corner opposite Jean Grey's room, two sets of eyes watch as the redhead and blonde leave together, the pair of telepaths speaking quietly as they head down the hall towards the showers. Once out of earshot, the violet-haired peeper is the first to speak. "So, Petey. Looks like Fireball really does have a thing for the Princess."

Taking a moment to sip some orange juice through a pink straw, the pale-skinned girl nods. "Eyup. Seriously, Psy, she would not stop talking about the Princess. I'm telling you, love at first sight. Which means that you owe me five bucks."

"Nonono, I said the Princess has to reciprocate," Betsy backpedals. Her pale companion only laughs, making Betsy scowl and poke at her ribs. "I mean, how do I know you didn't affect the outcome, Little Miss Luck Dragon?"

"Hey, I wouldn't do that. Not with something like this. This is all them. Besides, if I was behind it, do you really think I'd make them so… disgustingly cute together?" Neena finishes off her orange juice before absently tossing the carton towards the trash. Just as it seems to it will fall short, the carton bounces off a door handle and falls into the trash can.

Betsy considers that before nodding. Then again… "Yeah. Speaking of cute girlfriends, though, what's new with Jeanne-Marie?"

Letting out a sigh tinged with frustration, Neena rolls her eyes. "Still stuck in Beijing. They're doing even more tests. As always, mutant medalists get tested more than the suspected dopers."

"I know, Domino, but she'll be cleared and then you'll officially be the girlfriend of a silver medal winning Olympian." Betsy reaches over, patting her friend on the back in an attempt to cheer her up.

"Yeah, I know… still pisses me off." The raven-haired mutant sighs before perking up. "Hey, breakfast is done by now, right?" Betsy shrugs before nodding, not quite sure where her friend is going with the question. "Wonder what the odds are that they have some pancakes left…"

"Wanna go find out?"

* * *

_May 25, 2009  
The Office of Dr Asgari Kapatī - Manhattan, New York  
1:20PM_

* * *

"I couldn't help but notice that you just shared some memories that clearly-"

"Aren't my own?" Emma smirks as she leans back in her chair, bringing one finger up to tap against her temple. Evidently the good doctor has forgotten who she's dealing with, an oversight that Emma intends to exploit in their never ending game of verbal one-upmanship. "I am a telepath, remember? Why would I be limited to what my own eyes can see and my own ears can hear? Those of us in the 'Brain Bunch', as Betsy calls it, tend to toss memories back and forth like tweets. Makes going to a concert or ballgame a positively fascinating experience…"

"I see." Shifting uncomfortably, Kapatī forces a brittle smile that Emma can see through as easily as her own transmorph form. It makes the blonde wonder, does Kapatī think Emma plans to pick through her own brain? She'd dismissed such a thing in the past, figuring her plain and boring therapist had nothing of interest rattling around inside her head. Now, she's… slightly curious, albeit not enough to waste the time and energy poking around in the older woman's head. "Moving on… I believe you were telling me about your first day at Xavier's?"


	8. Perfect Present

Lexi's Note - Continuing Emma's first day of school.

* * *

_May 25, 2009  
The Office of Dr. Asgari Kapat_ī_ - Manhattan, New York  
1:28PM_

* * *

Getting up from her rich brown leather chair, the tall, dark-complected woman walks to her desk, stopping to gently pet the small ebony cat curled atop her desk. After a moment, Dr. Kapatī turns and taps a button on the phone sitting near her new pet. "Jaime, can you please change my appointments? Miss Frost and I shall be running over our normal time."

"Yes'm," the young man's chipper voice replies from the intercom. Kapatī glances through her small leather notebook, rereading the notes she made earlier in the session. Emma's blue eyes linger on her therapist for a moment, before wandering away as she realizes that she feels as if she's being watched… and the only other person in the room is reading. Her eyes slowly drift to the left before landing on the doctor's cat, the small feline's bright yellow eyes staring at her in the detached way that all cats do. Or at least she assumes it's a normal cat stare; she's never owned one. It looks like pictures she's seen of cats, though.

As she continues staring back at her audience, Emma notices something new about the little black cat. It's not pure black, as she'd previously thought: a small, roundish smudge of white fur sits smack dab in the center of its forehead, standing out starkly from the deep ebony fur that surrounds it.

Emma's attention returns to the cat's piercing yellow eyes, only to notice the cat's gaze has likewise wandered to… her hands? Looking down at them, Emma stares at the marble queen in her hands, glittering its perfect white in the warm light of the room. After a few seconds, she glances back up and finds that the cat's interest is no longer on the chess piece, and her large yellow eyes lock with Emma's for a moment. Then, with a blink and a lazy yawn, the cat curls back up in a ball and settles back into her fitful sleep.

With a soft clearing of the doctor's throat, Emma's attention turns back to the Indian woman's presence. Without alerting the young blonde, Kapatī has settled back into her chair, her dark eyes watching Emma as the cat had. After a moment, a small smile appears on the doctor's face. "So, you were telling me of your first day at school?"

Wrinkling her brow in thought, Emma focuses on the chess piece in her hands as she gently rubs it with a thumb. "Yeah, I… I learned a lot about myself that day…"

* * *

_September 1, 2008  
The Xavier School for the Gifted - Salem Center, New York  
10:04AM_

* * *

Sitting in the small auditorium, Emma does her best to listen to the wet blanket named Scott Summers as he drones on about protocols and rules. Forcing herself to stay awake, she fidgets in her seat a bit before looking to her right at the massive young man beside her. The dark-haired boy looks maybe only a year older than her, but his physical size is intimidating. If Brian Braddock was the school's star quarterback, this kid would be a first-string lineman. As she turns her head to examine the other students around her, Emma notices something odd about her massive neighbor: a small leather bindle rests at his feet. Poking out of one end is what appears to be a chisel. An artist, maybe?

Even he can't distract Emma forever, though, and a few seconds later she moves on to the student sitting to her left. A dull ache begins to build in the middle of her forehead as she eyes a fellow blonde, sprawled out in her seat in a rather undignified manner. The mystery blonde looks over at her and Emma plasters on her best fake smile, only to receive a vaguely disinterested nod in return. After a few seconds, the girl reconsiders. "Yo. Regan Wyngarde…" The young blonde introduces herself, hand outstretched. Emma shoots a quick glance to her right, quite sure that someone must be noticing their exchange. A heartbeat, and then another… and nothing. Turning back to Regan, Emma shakes the older blonde's hand. "…don't worry, no one'll notice us. It's how my powers work 'n all. So, who're you, noob?"

Pulling her hand back, Emma reaches up to massage her forehead. The pressure is growing slowly but steadily, reminding her a bit of a sinus headache. She knows she's not sick, though, and has never had a problem with allergies… shaking her head, she tries to focus on the conversation at hand. "Emma. Emma Frost."

"Oh, I thought you looked familiar. Wasn't your sister banging that soccer player?" Regan spouts with a touch of disdain.

"Quaint," Emma replies, wincing as the ache in her head spikes to a whole new threshold of pain. And then she puts the pieces together, switching to perceive the world around her with her mind's eye and seeing the thread connecting her to Regan. With a flex of her own abilities, the ache suddenly disappears and Regan… changes. Before, the blonde had been wearing a slightly rumpled but still very much regulation Xavier's uniform. Now, it looks like a stripper's cheesy attempt at a schoolgirl uniform: the skirt would be indecently short even by Adrienne's standards and the buttons of Regan's blouse are undone down to between her rather unimpressive breasts.

Emma stares at Regan stupidly for a few seconds, wondering what the point of her little masquerade was. Was she hoping to convince Emma that… wouldn't she have pretended to be wearing something trashy while actually dressing normally for a prank like that? Then someone clears their throat loudly and Emma realizes that she wasn't the only one Regan was hiding the truth from. A stocky, muscular man with rather wild black hair and matching lambchop sideburns glares their way before pushing off the wall, pointing first at Regan and then at a nearby door. "Wyngarde! My office! Now!"

Hushed whispers and giggles erupt in the auditorium, and Regan's face loses its color before flushing red in embarrassment. Her blue eyes lock on Emma's as she snarls before mouthing 'you bitch', only to receive Emma's most saccharin of smiles in return. The scolded blonde rises from her seat and falls into line in front of the stout teacher, who looks down at Emma as he passes and gives her a small wink. "Good job, kid."

"Children! May I have your attention, please? Your attention!" a statuesque woman calls to the crowd of students. Emma obeys, privately marveling at the way the woman's light mocha complexion contrasts with her pure white hair. The woman offers a smile to the living stick in the mud, rolling her eyes when Summers responds with a childish scowl before returning her attention to the students. "It would appear that we've managed to go over the time allotted for orientation. We need those of you whom are first years to meet me at the north elevators; returning students are free to settle in and enjoy your first day back."

Looking around, Emma catches sight of a familiar mane of fiery red hair and she opens her mouth to call out to Jean. Then the cheerful redhead falls in with a group of students, several of whom Emma recognizes from her ill-fated first visit: Teresa, Warren, Neena, and Betsy are part of the group laughing and chatting as they leave the auditorium.

Emma sighs and slouches down a little, only to straighten as she senses the presence of someone standing next to her. Somehow, the dark-complected teacher who'd restored order has made it all the way over to Emma; her pale grey eyes look the blonde over and then she gives a warm and honest smile. "Hello there. If I'm not mistaken, you're one of my first years? I'm Ororo Munroe, one of the teachers here."

"Oh, hello. I'm Emma and… yes, I guess I am a first year."

* * *

Sitting in the medical bay, Emma picks at the pale blue dressing gown she now wears. She isn't sure what she'd been expecting when she and the other first years were led off - perhaps a tour? - but a full physical isn't it. Then again, Emma reminds herself, this is Mutant High. Looking around the room, she notes the excessive amount of stainless steel on display; she wonders if Xavier hired the same man who designed the kitchen Mother so adores.

The hiss of doors opening draws Emma's attention away from analyzing the décor as a massive man steps into the room. His form is covered in a dense, dark blue fur and his hands… no, paws are massive. Yet, amazingly enough, he's able to quite deftly operate the tablet in his hands. His gold eyes race back and forth across the screen behind the small glasses perched precariously on the large mutant's broad, leonine face. A gasp escapes Emma's lips before she can stop it, and she curses herself for her reaction. Slipping the tablet into the pocket of his lab coat, he removes the glasses from the bridge of his nose. "I understand my appearance can be… disquieting. If you'd prefer, I can ask one of my assistants to do your assessment?"

"No! I… I'm sorry." Blushing, Emma looks down at her lap as she fidgets on the paper-covered table, her movements creating a remarkably loud rustling noise in the quiet room.

"It's fine, Miss Frost. I've grown accustomed to people's first reactions. Even among our community, physical mutations this prominent are relatively rare and so it can be rather jarring to run into one of us unexpectedly. If it makes you feel any better, I can still manage to spook Mister Summers rather badly and he's known me for years." He offers a warm smile to the tiny blonde, who can't help but return it. Moving to one of the many computer terminals in the room, the large mutant pulls up the class list and then taps on Emma's name. "So, Frost comma Emma. It's a pleasure to meet you. My parents graced me with the name Henry McCoy; I'm the residing medical practitioner on site. If you're as accident-prone as the younger Mister Summers, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor McCoy." Emma offers her tiny hand to the doctor and an unreadable look passes over Henry's face before a large smile takes its place, his massive paw wrapping around Emma's hand and daintily shaking it. As Henry pulls his hand away, something he said sinks in and Emma frowns. "You mentioned a 'younger' Mister Summers. Shared last name, or is he unfortunate enough to be related to Mister Doorstop?"

Henry lets out a soft chuckle as he goes back to tapping away at the computer. "Alexander is Scott's younger brother. There are four members of this generation of the Summers clan: two boys and two girls." Suddenly, he goes very still before turning slowly to look at Emma. "Forgive me, three members: two boys and one girl." Emma blinks a few times and Henry sighs. "The perils of being good friends with someone who knows things the rest of us shouldn't. I don't suppose you can erase your own memory of the last few seconds?"

Frowning, Emma considers the idea. "I suppose I could try, but I'd really rather not. With my luck, I'd melt a good-sized portion of my brain and end up turning myself into Miss Wyngarde."

"Mmm. A fate worse than death indeed." Henry makes a final adjustment on the computer and something in the ceiling begins to hum. As Emma watches, a large white ring descends a foot or so even as a matching ring in the floor raises up a few inches. Turning, Henry gestures to the matching rings. "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."

"_Dante's Inferno_, huh?" Emma chuckles as she slips off the edge of the examination table. Walking over to the lower ring, she steps into it and turns to face the doctor. Her eyes jump around wildly: taking in the glowing disc beneath her feet, watching as the ring around her ankles begins to move upward, peering upward as the other ring descends to meet it, noticing the pale blue line of light slowly moving up her small form…

"Honestly, I was worried that it would come off cliché." Henry begins deftly tapping on the screen with a sheepish grin. "If you're at all curious, I'm currently doing a diagnostic of your overall health and abilities. The latter will be help us in guiding the growth of your powers." Nodding slightly, Emma closes her eyes as the pale blue light moves over her face. She projects her consciousness outward, feeling others close by: some waiting nervously, others in various stages of their own checkups. A soft cough pulls Emma's mind back into her body, and she opens her eyes as she looks over at the doctor. "Our testing is complete. If you'd like to step out and get dressed, I can have one of my assistants take you to get fitted for your training suit."

Offering his large paw to the young blonde, Henry helps Emma step out of the diagnostic device and she offers him a smile of thanks before grabbing her clothes from the examination table. Stepping behind the provided screen, Emma begins redressing herself. "So, did I pass? I'm good with theoretical knowledge, but I don't always test well…"

Henry lets out a strange, growling laugh at that. "Finally, someone who can make jokes without resorting to _Star Trek_ references. I dare say I'm going to enjoy having you around, Miss Frost. As for your tests… you're a healthy fourteen-year-old girl, although you are slightly underweight. Height-wise, you're in the tenth percentile. And according to the scans, your powers are in the 93rd percentile among the psionics known to Xavier."

"Hmm." Emma purses her lips as she steps out from behind the dressing screen, meticulously focused on the Windsor knot she's tying into her dark blue tie. Looking up, she feels her train of thought derail and burst into flames. Standing beside the large feline mutant is a familiar redheaded girl. Her wild mane is pulled back into a loose ponytail, her tall form encased in a tight black catsuit with a strip of kelly green running down the center of her body, only broken up by the stylized X at her waist. Thrown over the catsuit is a pale blue lab coat with a name tag affixed to the left breast. "…Jean?"

"Oh wonderful, you're already acquainted!" Henry smiles as he moves to stand beside them. Placing a paw firmly on each girl's back, he guides them over to the door. "Miss Grey here is one of my student aides. She'll see you to the Danger Room, where you'll be given your training suit."

And then suddenly they're standing in the hallway again, and Emma can't seem to remember how to make her mouth work.

* * *

"This is awesome! I was hoping I'd get you," the tall redhead tells Emma as they walk down the hallway, her bright green eyes sparkling with excitement. Emma can feel her heart doing its best hummingbird impression again as she looks from Jean's brightly smiling face back to her own hands as the young blonde fusses with the hem of her vest. She had finally gotten herself calmed down during her morning chat with Jean, only to find herself feeling confused and flustered again in a matter of seconds.

Turning a corner, the pair run into a mass of students chattering excitedly around a large video display. One clump of kids includes a young blond boy who bears a passing resemblance to the school's resident stick in the mud Summers. "Yes! I'm leading the X-Factor Squad!"

Looking up at her companion, Emma quirks a brow. '_That's Alex Summers. He's the little brother of the Professor's aide,' _Jean answers the unasked question. With a tilt of her head, the pair make their way through the small crowd. After a short walk and turning another corner, the redhead continue her explanation, "We're split up into squads here. It's to help us learn teamwork, as mutants and students."

Looking back over her shoulder, Emma nibbles on her lower lip. "Oh. Then shouldn't we go back to see what squad I'm on?"

"Nah. I pestered Warren. You're on the New Mutants with us," Jean winks at her walking companion. Suddenly, Emma's stomach does a flip, her face growing hot. How could she spend the year on the same squad with this maddeningly pretty girl without having a heart attack? Tugging on a suddenly irritating thread on her vest, a frown grows on Emma's face. Misunderstanding it, Jean is quick to apologize. "Oh… oh no. I'm sorry. I just thought… yeah. We can have you put on a different team if you want. I didn't mean to make everything weird, I just-"

"Huh? Oh, no!" Emma's head jerks up and she stares at Jean with a shocked look. Before she can stop herself, she blurts out, "I'd like to be with you."

A sly smile passes over Jean's face as they reach their destination; as the realization of what she said sinks in, Emma's face turns bright red again. As the blonde tries to figure out how to dig herself out of the hole she's fallen into, Jean surprises her by looping one arm around Emma's waist, resting her hand on the smaller blonde's hip. Together, they step into a room filled with computers and odd machinery. Before the redhead can say anything, the stout, dark-haired teacher from orientation looks up from his tablet, a smile forming on his grizzled face. 'Hey, Red. Should have known you'd make friends with a girl like this. She busted right through Wyngardge's illusions earlier. Hell of a job, kiddo."

"Hello, Mister Howlett!" Jean responds before using the hand still resting on the young blonde's hip to guide Emma a bit further into the room, the door sliding shut behind them. The heavily muscled instructor's eyes drop to where Jean's hand is resting and then back up to the redhead's face, giving her a small grin and a wink. "Emma here is a new student and needs to have her Danger Room suit constructed."

The instructor's dark brown eyes slide from Jean to Emma, and the tiny blonde is struck by how time and sadness have etched their mark in the man's eyes. "Ah, gotcha. What's the last name, Emma?"

"Um… Frost, sir?" Emma responds, feeling a bit intimidated by the gruff man. She chides herself mentally for being such a spastic rabbit; her emotions, usually held tightly in check, are suddenly all over the place. It has to be her powers, she decides; she hasn't been around this many people since her powers manifested last year at her previous school. Their mental noise is filtering through and throwing her all out of whack. That must be it, that has to be the answer.

Instructor Howlett mutters to himself as he prods the computer before perking up. "There you are. Emma Frost. So, seeing as how you're a girl and I'm quite obviously not…" Turning to Jean, he jerks a thumb towards the door. "Do you want me to go snag 'Ro or are you handling this one personally?" It takes a moment for Emma to realize that he's risen from his seat, and not much has changed: he can't possibly be more than an inch or two taller than her.

"Is it okay if I do it? I mean, you won't get in trouble, will you?" For the first time in the short period she's known the girl, Emma notices a bit of worry in her new companion's voice.

"Nah, Red, Chuck'll be fine with it. Anyway, I'm thinking this would be a great time for a cigar break," Instructor Howlett returns with a grin. With a call back over his shoulder, the fireplug of a man wanders out of the room. "You two have fun!"

Noticing the hand on her hip has left its resting place, Emma finds herself missing it. She watches Jean wander over to seat herself in the chair previously occupied by Mr. Howlett, and the young ginger begins working the computer's touch interface. After a few seconds of silence, she turns in the chair, grinning mischievously at Emma, "Okay, I need you to strip."

"Wait, what?!" the young blonde exclaims. At this moment, Emma's quite sure that she's blushing all over. How could Jean ask her something like that, especially this soon? Sure she's pretty, and smart, and funny, and pretty… but this is definitely rushing things! They haven't even started dating or anything, the blonde thinks to herself, and she's not even sure if she likes girls like that…

"Calm down. Not like that," Jean replies with a giggle. "Although I didn't hear you complaining when you were all snuggling on me before Mister Howlett left."

"I wasn't snuggling!" Well, maybe she was, but Emma Grace Frost shall not admit defeat. Crossing her arms over her chest and drawing herself up to the fullest extent of her admittedly unimpressive height, she sniffs haughtily. "You were the one being all Miss Grabby Hands."

"Okay, okay. You win, I was being all grabby." Jean offers up that damn infectious smile again but Emma refuses to give into this girl's charm, no matter how wonderfully perfect she is. "The machine needs you to be naked so it can construct your suit. There's a dressing panel over there."

"Sigh. Fine." Stepping behind the panel, Emma begins undressing. Her fingers tremble as she undoes the buttons of her blouse. Nervousness radiates through her but she doesn't quite understand why; she's gotten undressed around other girls before. After a few moments, Emma stands nude behind the screen and feeling very self-conscious. The door to her right slides open with a swish.

"Just head into the room beside you," Jean's voice comes over the loudspeaker. Stepping into the dim room, Emma can make out only that it's cylindrical, with faintly glowing lights embedded into the walls. Slowly the lights come up and her self-consciousness spikes again, causing her to try and cover herself with her hands. Small nozzles emerge from the wall as Emma begins to fidget. "Are you ready? Just hold your arms out away from your sides with your palms up. I'll make sure the video recording is off." Jean's obviously teasing tone does nothing to help Emma's screaming nervousness. "Commencing lattice spray."

Suddenly, Emma feels four small round pads pressing against her back as well as something rubbing against her spine, running from the nape of her neck to the bottom of her tailbone. Armatures come out of the wall, pressing two more small pads against her lower chest, just under her budding breasts. With a hiss, the nozzles begin to spray streams of a material that almost looks like black paint. Slowly, the nozzles being to orbit her, coming out of the walls on armatures, the spray overlapping and covering her pale skin.

"The suit was invented by Doctor McCoy and a former student named Forge. It's an amazing piece of technology; when complete, it's only a little more than a half a millimeter thick. Don't let that fool you, though, because it's tear-proof, fire and cold resistant, and can disperse a bit of kinetic energy," Jean explains over the intercom. "It also has built in telemetric sensors that measure your heart rate, body temperature, and overall health."

_'While all so very fascinating, it's a fair bit embarrassing to be stuck here standing like this while you admire the view on the room's cameras,'_ Emma replies, trying to hide her insecurity behind her biting wit as usual. Her shoulders start to ache as she keeps her arms outstretched. _'How much longer is this going to take? My arms are starting to hurt…'_

_'Not much longer; you've got about a minute left until the suit's done spraying,' _Jean's melodic voice returns to Emma's mind. The nozzles begin to slow their rotation, as a pool of the black goo begins to rise from the floor. It covers her body slowly, eventually reaching her shoulders, and then her neck, and then forcing the small blonde to breathe through her nose as it creeps up to her cheeks. _'There, we're in the final phase of construction. Also, you kinda owed me a peek for sneaking into my room earlier and drooling while you watched me dance.'_

_'I didn't sneak in!'_ Emma pouts as Jean's mental giggles roll through her mind, realizing too late that she'd walked into that one. _'Haha… I see what you did there.'_

_'Just wanted you to relax a bit. Don't worry, I'm not going to bite… unless you ask nicely.'_ Jean's giggles continue to echo through Emma's mind.

The black goo slowly drains away, eventually revealing a series of vents scattered around her on the floor. Emma looks down at herself, taking in the catsuit that now covers her. It's similar to Jean's except for the fact that it's all black. Slowly, it begins to change, the material shifting from a matte black to something glossier, like the costumes she sees on the superheroes on the news. A stripe running up the middle of her outfit begins to change color, slowly brightening from black to a medium grey and eventually ending up a pure white.

_'I figured white would fit. That way, if things work out, you can be my white knight.' _There's something in Jean's voice Emma can't quite put her finger on, perhaps maybe longing?

…she almost hopes it is.


	9. Unwanted Child

Lexi's Notes: Sorry about the delay, with the holidays and everything, I didn't want to get started and have it languish. I should be back onto a more regular schedule soon.

* * *

_May 27, 2009  
The Office of Judge Perry Burr - Burkesville, Cumberland County, Kentucky  
9:21AM_

* * *

Sitting surrounded by adults, the thirteen-year-old blonde stares at her gauze-wrapped hands, sniffing slightly as the cloying smell of old cigars tickles her nose. Paige Guthrie fiddles and picks at the dry and cracked skin of her fingertips, listening as the four men in the room speak of her as if she isn't there.

"Yes, Mister Michelli, I understand the point you're trying to make. I freely acknowledge the fact that her mother has abandoned her, and that she needs a new guardian. But you're ignoring my point. You're quite insistent that the only option is for her to come live at your client's school for fr… erm, mutants. But…" Looking away from the lawyer the Professor brought with him, Thomas Mellon turns to the judge seated on the other side of the large oak desk. Rail thin and balding, there's something about Mellon that makes Paige deeply uncomfortable. "Your honor, this 'school' of his… it's nothing more than a place of indoctrination and anti-human sentiment. It's not a fit place for Miss Guthrie to stay. One of our state's homes for abandoned children would be much more suitable, if you ask me."

The heavyset judge sits behind the desk in his large leather chair, fingers steepled under his reddened nose, his rosy face framed with a neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard. His cool blue-grey eyes regard the state's attorney for a moment before sliding over to rest on the tiny blonde sitting directly in front of him. "Thank you, Mister Mellon, but I think I'd like to hear what Paige thinks about the situation."

Paige jumps a little in her seat before sinking back into herself, trying to bury her face in her ever-present scarf. Her long blond hair falls over most of her face, leaving only a single brown eye peeking out. Her fingers clutch at her simple, long, grey cotton skirt as she looks up at the Judge timidly. "I want to stay at school, sir. All my friends are there: Artie, Sarah… Emma."

"Yes, yes. It's also where your brother was killed due to the neglect of Mister Xavier," Mr. Mellon sneers. A look of distaste washes over his face, as if she were a bug crawling across the floor.

"Your honor, that is highly inappropriate…" the man to Paige's right interjects, rising out of his seat beside the Professor with obvious anger in his voice.

"Be seated, Mister Michelli. I will handle this," the judge informs the Professor's council with the tone of a disapproving grandfather. His wise old eyes flick over to the stoic Xavier before slowly sliding back across the length of his desk to the smirking Mellon. After a moment of contemplation, Judge Burr leans forward and points firmly at the rail thin man in the tweed coat. "Mister Mellon, this is your only warning. Any further outbursts of a similar nature, and I will reject your case and find you in contempt. Do you understand me?"

Paige smiles into her scarf as the chastised man beside her squeaks and acknowledges the judge's orders. Lowering his hands to rest on the desk, Burr intertwines his fingers as he turns his attention to the Professor. "Now, Professor Xavier, while Mister Michelli has done an admirable job of painting your school as the best possible option, I think I'd like to hear from you. What makes you feel you have Paige's best intentions at heart? And while Mister Mellon could have phrased it better… she did lose a brother at your school. Do you feel her safety can be ensured?"

Sighing, Professor Xavier leans back in his chair. "Well, your honor, Mister Mellon is correct to a degree. I did fail Samuel, as well as twenty-three others, and that's something I will have to live with for the rest of my life." Paige stares at her feet as she listens to the man she's grown to admire admit to his failure. Shutting her eyes tightly as she feels the tears building inside her, she wonders why she can't be perfect and strong… like Emma. Taking a deep breath, the Professor continues. "Like Paige, I think it would be best for her to remain with her peers. She lost her brother a mere twenty days ago, and more recently her mother and remaining siblings. It would be monstrously inhumane of us to strip away what little remains of her old life. Furthermore, while her control is improving, her mutation isn't easily hidden. How would a state-run home - or school, for that matter - handle a girl spontaneously turning to stone?"

"Hmm. Yes, I see your point. Moving on… how would her tuition be covered? According to what I've read, the Guthries aren't a wealthy family. What sort of arrangement did you have with them, and would you be willing to continue them going forward?" the judge queries.

Paige perks up at the question; she's been curious about the second half for a while now, and as for the first… well, it stands between her and returning to her friends. It too is of definite interest to her. "We've had several children experience the same issue with their families over the years, your honor. Some were even as young as Miss Guthrie when they came to us. In exchange for an education as well as room and board, we demand nothing more than what they would have been asked to do at home: simple chores around the mansion. Things are handled as discreetly as possible to ensure their peers don't come to see them as servants or the like." As the Professor calmly explains her future, the judge nods and Paige lets out a sigh of relief. That doesn't sound horrible at all. "Additionally, the students receive a modest bi-weekly stipend for discretionary spending. In a few years, Paige would be eligible to supplement that with money from any number of small on-campus jobs, ranging from groundskeeping to tutoring to secretarial work in the school's main office."

"Your Honor! He's freely admitting he's planning on using her as free labor!" Mr. Mellon's exclamation is accompanied by the harsh smack of his hand against the judge's desk, and Paige sighs. Even she can see that's not true: she'd be getting a lot in exchange for… probably less than she had to do back home. Why does the annoying man have to be so darn… well, annoying?

A soft glow in the corner of her eye catches Paige's attention; turning to look at the Professor, she sees the familiar soft glow of his psionic power signature. He winces in pain, making her nibble her lower lip out of a mix of curiosity and worry, and then a look of distress passes over his face. A few seconds later, his eyes narrow and a small globe of light flaring to life above his forehead, causing Mr. Mellon's tirade to die on his lips.

Paige's breathing seems incredibly loud to her as a heavy silence hangs over the room and then, almost mechanically, both Judge Burr and Mr. Mellon turn to look at her as Xavier's power signature fades. Pulling a pen from its holder on his desk, Judge Barr signs his name on the papers sitting on his desk with several deft flicks of his wrist before handing them to the Professor's council. "I hereby declare Paige Naomi Guthrie to be the ward of Charles Xavier. Dismissed."

"Thank you, your honor," the Professor says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Feeling very confused, Paige watches the men shake hands before following Mr. Michelli and Professor Xavier out of the judge's office.

The group is quiet as they wind through the halls of the Cumberland County Court House, but as they reach where the Professor's car is waiting for them out front, Mr. Michelli vocalizes the question that Paige too is curious about but doesn't know how to ask. "So, in the end you used your powers to get her. I know you'll still pay me for my time, so at the risk of looking a gift horse in the mouth… why did you bother bringing me at all, Charles?"

"He was going to decide in our favor anyway, thanks largely to your convincing arguments. Unfortunately, it wouldn't have been quickly enough and so rather than leave Paige in the state's custody while I go deal with a situation that was just brought to my attention, I opted to… expedite things." Xavier holds up his hand to forestall Mr. Michelli's reply. "The needs of the many versus the needs of the one, John."

Sighing, Mr. Michelli shakes his head. "That's rather easy to say when you're not the one, isn't it, Charles?"

"A debate we can have another day, my friend." His frown returning, the Professor turns his head to stare off into the distance. "Something truly awful is going to unfold if I don't act quickly."

A wave of panic washes over Paige as they get into the car.

* * *

_May 27, 2009  
The Frost Summer Home - East Hampton, NY  
10:12 AM_

* * *

"Okay, so, I've got good news and bad news for you, Munchkin. Which do you want first?"

Silence.

"All right, bad news first. You're going to have to go near other people. I just bought two round trip tickets on LIRR along with a pair of seats on the _Acela_ from Penn Station to Boston and back."

Silence.

"And the good news is… we're taking the train to Boston because the coolest big brother ever just snagged a pair of Monster seats for the Red Sox versus Yankees game on the ninth. So not this coming Tuesday, but next Tuesday. Sound good?"

"Shh!" Emma points at the television before turning back to it, ignoring the shifting of the supple leather couch as Christian settles down beside her. She stares raptly at the news unfolding in front of her, her finger rubbing small circles on the tip of her nose. "…and to repeat, the mutant terrorist group calling themselves the 'Mutant Liberation Front' have taken East High School hostage. Details are still scarce at this point, but we do know they are threatening to begin executing the children inside starting at 10:32, and will continue to do so until one has died for each mutant student lost in the Xavier School Massacre just twenty days ago…"

While Emma's heard the same words several times since she was torn away from watching teenage sluts paternity testing potential fathers on _Maury_ by the breaking news, it's taken until now for her mind to process them. In a way, these people are trying to avenge her former classmates. Avenge Sam. Avenge Jean. It makes her feel… she's not certain how she feels, to be honest. Even if their plans are horrific, the intent… it's more than most are willing to offer her kind. As she ponders that, Emma watches as the camera follows a large, four-armed mutant stalking the perimeter of the school. After a few seconds, the camera shakily jumps onward to another mutant; after a few seconds, it focuses and the young blonde blinks. This one - a woman, as best she can tell - looks as if she were a human-dragon hybrid. Emma finds her fascinating to behold; while there are some physical mutations as at Xavier's, none of them are quite this unusual.

The camera slowly roams back and forth, capturing the image of several other mutants, all of them a bit unusual even by Xavier's standards. Finally, it settles on a lithe man with chalk white skin who is carrying a massive scythe… and standing guard over a group of small figures huddling in the shadows. Emma doesn't even bother counting; she knows exactly how many there are. After all, she was there that day. She remembers each and every victim of the attack that took her Jean.

"I wonder if anyone's going to get there in time?" Christian queries softly.

"I… I don't know."

"Umm, maybe we should, y'know… change the channel…"

"No… no, I have to see this out," Emma replies calmly.

Reaching over, Christian rubs his tiny sister's back. "Okay. Then I'll be here with you."

Suddenly, there's a bright flash of light and the camera zooms out as chaos erupts on the screen. A bright red beam of light slams into the large, four-armed beast of a man, sending him crashing backwards into the side of the school building. At the same moment, a familiar patriotic shield ricochets off the head of the mutant with the scythe with an ugly clang even as a burst of lightning slams into the dragon-lady. Before the terrorists can regroup, their two dozen intended victims disappear in a series of familiar purple bursts of smoke.

Emma and her brother hold their breath as the rescue mission continues to unfold in front of them. With a beastly roar, a short man in black and yellow hurls himself into the fray, six gleaming metal claws slashing at one of the terrorists. The claws cut deep groves in the spiked armor of his prey and then Instructor Howlett is moving on, a pair of explosive arrows distracting his former opponent until another crimson beam of light can put him down for the count. One of the MLF members begins to grow, the man's height and - much to Emma's disgust - girth rapidly increasing. Before he can join in the attack, a large blue form slams into the massive mutant before gracefully backflipping out of reach, and then the eight fool tall mass of fat and muscle is met with the might of a Norse god.

Slamming his fist into the immense mutant's face, Thor follows it with a strike from Mjølnir, sending the corpulent terrorist spinning through the air before slamming into the ground with earth-shaking force. A dark-haired woman in black and yellow makes a long jump that would make an Olympian cry, shrinking in size as she sails through the air and peppering another deformed mutant with yellow energy blasts. At the last second, she pops back to full size and slams both feet into the man's face, toppling her foe. As the number of terrorists still standing dwindles, the camera zooms in to focus on one last battle, between a raven-haired woman in red who's hovering in front of a man covered from head to toe in white, a large number zero on his face. Energy erupts from his outstretched fists and flies at the Scarlet Witch, only to disperse into a shower of sparks when it strikes a disc composed of glowing crimson symbols. Muttering something to herself, the mutant witch gestures and pulls the earth up around the terrorist, holding him fast as the soil shifts into a metal prison.

A moment later, a group of uniformed men rush in with heavy shackles and begin the task of cleanup. The group of superhuman rescuers gathers off to one side, allowing the camera to catch them all: Captain America, Thor, and Wasp of the Avengers Initiative standing alongside the bore Summers, Ms. Monroe, Dr. McCoy, Instructor Howlett, Kurt, and Mrs. Lensherr. Even from a distance, it's obvious that an air of sadness hangs over them. Captain America puts his hand on Kurt's shoulder, saying something that doesn't reach the camera. The look on the man's face speaks volumes to Emma, though; she's seen that face before, "Oh… oh Kurt."

"Hmm? What's the matter, Munchkin?"

"Nothing. I need to get some fresh air." The petite blonde stands and walks to the front door, not sure why, but all she feels at the moment is anger.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Christian calls out to his sister.

Stopping, Emma stares out the large windows looking out over the Sound. It dawns on her why she's so angry, why she can't feel joy at the victory that unfolded on the television. She clenches her fists and for the first time, tears don't come as she thinks back to that day. No, she's far too angry to that. Turning her head slightly, she looks back at her brother. "Where were they, Christian? We'll come running to help the Avengers save flatscans, but where were the Avengers when we were under attack? Nowhere! The Sellout was at Jean's funeral; where was she during the attack? Nowhere! You know why? Because we're just weapons to them. And when they don't need us, they hate us and shun us just like everyone else. Because we're different. Because… we're better than them. All of them."

"Emma…" The young man looking at his sister, the expression on her face harder than any diamond.

"Don't, Christian. Just… don't. Don't try and defend them. Because you can't. Because… maybe Magneto's right…"

* * *

_May 31, 2009  
Medical Bay - The Baxter Building  
6:16 PM_

* * *

"Well… this is turning into quite the sausage party. Haven't seen this many guys on one girl since that time my best friend Janice and I downloaded a Sasha Grey video."

Scott sighs at that, closing his eyes so he can reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose without punching a hole in the wall of Tony Stark's undoubtedly expensive office building. While he draws a salary working for Professor Xavier, he doesn't want to think about how long it'd take him to pay off the results of an uncontrolled discharge in the middle of Manhattan. Why is here, he finds himself wondering again. Ah, that's right. With his father off playing Captain Kirk for SWORD, parental rights over the younger members of the Summers clan falls to him. And so even though Henry could have driven Charles, given that both are present for this little get together, he's stuck here playing babysitter to a teenage girl who's gone from traumatized to traumatizing in record time. "New rule, Dawn: don't say anything around these people that you wouldn't have said to Aunt Joyce."

Letting his glasses drop back into position, Scott opens his eyes and meets the bright blue gaze of the girl he'd previously thought to be his cousin. Except she's actually not, because it turns out that dear old dad couldn't keep his pants on around his brother's wife, and so Dawn is really his half-sister. His sarcastic, far too inquisitive, also a mutant and living at Xavier's with him now half-sister. "Does this mean I can start talking to them about my period, colors of nail polish, and cute boys, then?" The uncomfortable looks the question earns her makes Dawn cackle before returning her attention to Scott. "Actually, Mom knew I downloaded porn. She sat me down once and gave me a lecture about how if that was what I was expecting sex to be like, I'd probably be disappointed because most men aren't that big… or that interested in getting their partner off. I've heard that size doesn't matter, so I'm not that worried about the first part, but the second half better not be true or I'm never doing anything with a guy. Ever. Because if I'm putting in as much effort as some of those girls were? I'm going to want a reward for it."

"Wow. You must have been watching something really old if Sasha was actually getting into things. In her newer videos, she just sorta…" Peter Parker trails off as all eyes in the room come to rest on him, blushing furiously. "I mean, that's not the kind of thing a girl your age should be watching. Or thinking about. Or… someone want to help me out here?"

Chuckling, Tony wanders over to give Peter a pat on the back before peering over the younger man's shoulder at the tablet he's holding. "Sadly, Peter's right. I ran into her recently at a movie premiere and we went out to dinner before coming back here for some… dessert. Trust me, she no longer loves what she does the way she used to."

Before Scott can speak up, because this is neither an appropriate topic to discuss around his teenage half-sister nor something he has any particular desire to hear, another voice calls out from across the room. "Really?" Stephen Strange turns his attention away from the long strings of numbers scrawled across the wall in front of him, peering over at Tony. "It must have been the company. Last time I saw her, we had a rather magical evening."

"Yeeeeeeah!" Dawn's loud exclamation draws attention back to where she's sitting in the middle of the room, and she shrugs before grinning. "Except you need some sunglasses."

"I get that reference!" Reed Richards actually sounds remarkably proud of that, which baffles Scott because… well, if it's something Dawn is into, shouldn't it be beneath such a distinguished scientist? "Johnny got me to watch the one-liner compilation video on YouTube. Pretty sure he's responsible for a good half of the hits on that page…"

Something small leaps from Dawn's shoulder and multiplies in size as it sails through the air, a six foot tall blond stumbling slightly as he lands on the floor. "As fascinating as that all is, shouldn't we be concentrating on making sure this bizarre contraption will actually keep Miss Summers from suffering another unfortunate eruption?" Hank Pym takes the tablet from Peter's hands and taps at it a few times before passing it back. "Stephen, whatever magic you used to seal up the gaps between the pieces of metal seems to have done its job; I shrunk down to my absolute minimum size and still couldn't spot a single seam. Still… are we sure this is going to work? Working on a magical golem constructed in the form of a _Homo sapiens superior_ is so far outside of my wheelhouse…"

"Math doesn't lie, Hank. Well, except for when I let Stephen try and help." Shaking her head, Winifred Burkle uses the marker in her hand to strike out a section of the complex equation written between her and the Sorcerer Supreme, scribbling revisions in a small patch of bare wall beneath it. Scott doesn't know what to make of the slender brunette the others have summoned as a 'technomancy expert', but since Dawn is quite vocal about her being 'good people', there's not much he can do besides stand there and watch her scribble all over any flat surface that holds still. And, at one point, on the back of Henry's lab coat. "I still don't get how you can mangle simple condensed matter physics so badly. I learned this stuff back in high school."

"I'm a doctor, not a physicist. Or at least I was." Turning to face the others, Stephen bows slightly at the waist. "Now, if you don't mind… I really need to return to Sunnydale and finish taking care of things there. I've done what I can for Dawn, and I stand by my work: this will keep the energy of the Key confined to her body. If you want to continue working on a way to safely release the energy for some purpose, Winifred is more than qualified to continue on in my stead."

Clearing her throat, Dawn draws all eyes back to her but her intent stare makes it clear that she's only after one man's attention. "Doc? If Willow… if she… Warren's a horrible person. And I'm not just saying that because he shot me and created this whole mess, either. If she did… handle… him? He deserved it."

Stephen shakes his head as he approaches Dawn, laying one hand on her metal-covered shoulder. "That's not for you or Willow to decide, Dawn."

"Yeah, well, you find me a court that'll prosecute him for making a sexbot of my sister or using demons to torment her with visions of killing a woman, and maybe then I'll let the system decide." Reaching up, Dawn brushes the man's hand off of her shoulder before sniffing and looking away. "Whatever. Go do whatever you think you need to do. And if you see Buffy… tell her that even if we fought a lot, she's still my sister and I still love her. I'm not taking the Professor's offer to hurt her. She can come see me if she wants to." Nodding, Stephen steps back and waves his hand, creating a glowing red mass of lines and arcane symbols that collapses behind him as he steps through. After a moment of silence, Dawn glances down at her new rune-covered metal chest plate - complete with a window that looks in on the glowing green ball of energy in her chest for reasons Scott doesn't understand - for a moment before looking around. "So… now what? And is there any chance it involves me getting to wear a shirt?"

As the remaining doctors and scientists begin to speak over each other and Henry donates his lab coat so Dawn can have a bit of coverage, Scott looks over at the Professor and shakes his head. Especially after Erie, hearing the newest member of the Westchester espouse a 'we can so we should' view is… concerning. Hopefully Dawn can be brought around to a better way of thinking. If not, Scott has a sinking suspicion that James might end up going on another 'business trip'… and taking Dawn with him.


End file.
